Beyond Satisfaction
by Helene Fyne
Summary: After Claire's 'Interesting Hobby', Sylar presses his advantage and builds the type of life he's always wanted, but what happens when one acquisition leaves him quite beyond satisfaction? CONTINUED in "My Dad Is A Serial Killer."
1. Introduction

**_A/N: Please remember the M rating. _**

**VOLUME TWO**

INTRODUCTION

I had been hungry, not the every day stomach turning hunger that warns you when you're about to starve to death, that was a paltry imitation, a shade of what I'd been feeling.

And so I had made my way quickly towards the object of my desire, the gourmet meal if you will. Oh she had been precious, protected... succulent. I'd wanted her. Wanted to feel her again, know her the way I had known her when she'd lain bare before me, the top of her skull in one of my hands even as I traced the contours of her gray matter with the other. It had been delicious. I had never felt more sated.

I'd approached her home quietly, forming the plan as my hand caressed the brass door knob of the front door. If I wanted her, I'd have to work for her. That was one of the things that appealed to me. It would be a long and merry chase, but then I had known that since the day I'd gone to meet the president and she had reacted so... pleasantly to my control. Of course, my plan had been thrown out of the window for a while when that bitch Angela Petrelli had found a way to replace her poor, dead little boy. That hadn't lasted long at all. The truth will out, they say, and it had outed all over the old woman. I'd used her blood to repaint a Monet in the family mansion. It had been fun.

I had killed her surviving son next, he would have just been in the way after I murdered Mommy. Next I'd tracked down Parkman. The bastard had paid dearly, though I hadn't been able to bring myself to kill the toddler he'd been holding. There are some lines even I refuse to cross, though in time, lines can be redrawn.

As the door of the house had flown open, leaving the entrance clear, my shadow had been thrown into the entry way. And then the streetlight behind me had flickered gently out.

I had taken my time that night. First the dog, an annoyingly yappy thing I'd been dieing to kill (please excuse the pun) for years. Then I'd taken out the brother... and the Mother. God but the look on Claire's face had been lovely, all vulnerable agony and a burgeoning desire for vengeance. It had taken most of my control not to take her for my own right then. But lessons must be learned at the pace of the student, not the instructor. Claire had been an especially slow learner, odd considering my own nature.

I had considered it an odd quirk of fate that I should be paired with the most obstinate person on the planet.

But the lesson had begun well, with her father's blood all over her clothing and her family's corpses on the living room floor. And then we'd gotten to enjoy a bit of private time. I have often wondered since then, since all of the panicked screams and grimaces, whether it was I who gave her the gift of appreciating pain, or whether it was something she'd been born with. After all, someone who's been given the gift of eternity must be able to handle all of the sensations that come with it.

Things had moved relatively quickly after that night. We'd moved in together and I had ascended to power within years. It had actually been quite easily achieved. A little blackmail here, some swift and completely false campaigning there, and just a touch of fear in the population.

It never ceased to amaze me, the strong will my little wife had displayed daily, despite all the lessons and the pain. I had tried to crush the rebellion out of her more times than I can remember before I had realized it was one of the things I admired most about her.

And then our child had died before he had a chance to live, and it had ended. My plans for the world had continued, but the life I had built... it had changed.

Claire once asked me whether I regretted anything and I had answered her honestly. Regret is for people who have done something wrong, its for people who are weak, for those who dislike their past actions. I had no actions to regret. What had changed my life had been fate... and it had been cruel. I remember very clearly the look in her eyes though, when she had accused me of being the cause. It had been the awful, one of the only sights I have ever wanted to forget. What can only be called guilt rolled through me in waves. I had felt it before, I was no stranger to the feeling... I am not a complete monster... but this. My son had died. My wife, however reluctant, truly, deeply, held me solely responsible.

I let her leave. The game had changed. It was the most prudent course of action.

And it was the course of action that had led me here.

**_A/N: Hello! Mel and Chuck here. This is part two of what is, at the moment, a four part series. Part one is entitled "An Interesting Hobby" and can be found under our stories. We would recommend reading it before embarking on this one. As ever, please don't forget to review! We love hearing from you!_**

**_-Mel and Chuck_**


	2. June 2525

**_A/N: Please remember the M rating. _**

JUNE 2525

I can't count the number of people I have killed. My long tenure on this earth has provided me with more than enough prey, and my seemingly insatiable hunger gives me the drive I need to keep hunting them.

Quite a bit has changed though, about the way I hunt. There have been times when the hunger has ruled me, been a constant part of my every day life, but that time has passed. After a couple of hundred years I learned to control it, use it. Now I can go as long as a year without feeling it, but I try not to limit myself.

Homicide is familiar... fun.

Other aspects of my nature have had to be changed, curbed, especially recently. For example, the acquisition of power is a tricky thing. I have more power than I can keep track of. If I'm being honest with myself, and I do try to be, I've practically ascended. That's why I've had to learn to compartmentalize. A middle aged Indian woman gave me that particular ability. It's actually quite a blessing, being able to forget the abilities I require until they are needed. It allows me to live normally, to not go insane. Its also what keeps the thoughts of my family out of my head twenty four seven, which is why the terrified buzz of Claire's thought's surprised me.

_Oh God, Please God, Please. Dammit, Gabriel. Come back! Gabriel! You're not dead. Shit. He can't be dead. You're not leaving me alone you bastard, not after all you've done. Dammit. Gabriel, please! God! What will Dani think. I've killed her Daddy, I've killed Gabriel. God, she's going to hate me. I'm going to hate myself. _

Her thoughts are chaotic and moving too fast for me to want to keep pace with them, but I can't seem to block them out. I become slowly aware of myself, of my body being shaken and a sharp, throbbing pain in my chest.

_Wake up, Gabriel. Wake up. Did he say he loved me? Why would he do this. You stupid, stupid, stupid man. Get up. Wake up. Open your goddamned eyes and look at me, you fucking monster. Wake up!_

Her tone of thought annoys me, it will be fun punishing her for her insolence later... just as soon as I can manage to open my eyes and block it all out. And there is a new voice alongside Claire's.

_...looked really mad. But I wonder if Mommy will still take me to the park. I really want to go for a walk, and I've been good. I put away my toys like Daddy said... but he looked really angry. I wonder if he'll tell Mommy not to take me to the park because I was bad. I hope he doesn't. _

It's Danielle. I want to smile at the sound of her voice but can't muster the strength.

_GABRIEL! WAKE UP YOU BASTARD! DON'T YOU DARE LEAVE ME! WAKE UP! WAKE UP!!!_

Claire's mental voice has grown obnoxiously loud, and as I come back to myself, I reach out. The strings of my control move sluggishly through the air until they reach my wife, wrapping around her wrists and pulling them away from my shoulders. I fall back, my shoulder blades hitting the hardwood floor and sending another sharp jolt of pain vibrating through my body as my eyes fly open.

"Stop thinking so damned loudly," I hiss. I can taste blood in my mouth and feel my heart beating way too quickly, mending itself. My own hands inch away from my body until one of them grasps the bloodied hilt of the blade I last saw lodged in my chest.

_Oh God, thank God! Gabriel, you stupid ass! How could you be so damned-_

As my mind clears and my wound heals completely, I block out the sound of Claire's thoughts. I am left blessedly alone in my own mind. And now its all coming back to me.

She's stabbed me. Of course, I had provoked the attack, invited it even, with harsh words and lies, but she'd actually done it. I smile, somewhat proud.

It has been a long time coming, this final surrender. It is a moment I have been planning for eight years now, and it has gone perfectly. Some smug corner of myself exults in the victory, but for the most part, all I can feel is relief. It is true then, everything I have deduced, suspected. After I'd killed the orphan catcher, I'd known it was time. The way she'd wished me luck hunting in that soft voice that meant she was being sincere. The morning after when she'd pleasured me without provocation, teasing and smiling up at me as those lips wrapped deliciously around my...

Yes. I had known.

I had known the moment she admitted it to herself, no matter how vague the admission had been. I remember the sound of her thoughts as she made love to me with her mouth, the way she'd skirted around the word love as if it were a curse word... which she apparently had no problem thinking. Oh yes, it had been time to prove to her that her priorities had changed, that she would rather have me alive than dead, that our family meant more to her than vengeance.

And the plan had worked beautifully. Moving my off switch at the last second had taken a bit of practice, but I'd managed. And now I was back. Because she wanted me.

"You know, Claire," my voice is soft, thoughtful as I sit upright, "It's not very polite to kill people, especially when you don't mean it."

I plunge the blade into her heart, mirroring the wound she had given me and watching the surprise in her eyes. The surprise, anger, and acceptance mingled there satisfy me.

"God, you're beautiful," I murmur, leaning forward to give her a lingering kiss on the lips. Her breath has become shallow and her eyes are wide.

I withdraw the blade slowly, running my tongue along her lower lip. She sighs.

"You were dead." Her voice has gone hoarse and I feel her hands brush against my cheek as I free her from my control.

"Mmm. It would appear so."

"I'm not a bad mother." her voice has gone cold, her eyes have narrowed.

"Really?" I can hear the amusement in my voice.

"Don't play with me, Gabriel," she warns. My own temper begins to flare again, and only Danielle's presence behind the bedroom door keeps me from punishing Claire for her insolence right away. "You know damned well you provoked me on purpose."

"Oh come on, Claire," I roll my eyes, "It was cathartic for the both of us. You must have enjoyed the experience. After 500 plus years of trying to kill me, you finally succeeded." I pause, "of course, you brought me back, which I don't think was part of the original plan." The astonishment on her face as I rise and drop the bloodied knife onto the wooden floorboards is priceless.

"You manipulated me!" her voice cracks, "You told me you loved me!"

"Don't delude yourself," I cut her off, "you made the decision Claire, you made it because you don't want your vengeance more than you want me in your life, and the fact that I love you has nothing to do with it."

I wish I could frame the shocked expression on her face, but its time to end the discussion before either of us does something stupid. And so I turn my back on the stunned woman kneeling on the floor and call out to my daughter.

"Danielle, you may come out of the room now." The bedroom door inches forward and our little girl's small face, eyes gone red and tears coating her cheeks, pokes through the threshold.

"Daddy, do I still get to go for a walk?"

I smile at her and nod.

"Retrieve your shoes and your mother and I will take you out. Hurry before I change my mind." She turns and darts back into the bedroom, grabbing her walking shoes and running out into the living room. She comes out at a bit of a run, crossing the room to hold the shoes out to Claire, carefully sidestepping the blood on the floor as she goes.

"Mommy, can you help me tie them?"

Claire pauses, the fresh bloodstain on the front of her light blue shirt looks obscene.

"Why don't you try to tie them yourself while I change, baby," she says, glancing up at me before meeting Danielle's solemn gaze, "and if you still haven't gotten it when I'm done, we'll work on it together." The little girl nods and moves to sit on the couch.

I watch as Claire rises, walking slowly as she brushes her blonde hair out of her face with one bloodied hand. She pauses at my side, eyes on the bedroom door as she reaches down with her other hand to grasp mine. She squeezes lightly before letting go and continuing out of the room.

I smile when she's out of sight.

"Around and through, Danielle." I call from where I stand.

My daughter looks up briefly, impatiently, before she returns to work on her laces, continuing in the same failed pattern she had been working with before.

She's just as tenaciously unwilling to accept good advice as her mother.

I smile again and let the moment sink in for what it is.

Life.

**_A/N: Hello! Mel and Chuck here. This is part two of what is, at the moment, a four part series. Part one is entitled "An Interesting Hobby" and can be found under our stories. We would recommend reading it before embarking on this one. As ever, please don't forget to review! We love hearing from you!_**

**_-Mel and Chuck_**


	3. April 2083

APRIL 2083

America had crumbled and I was satisfied. It had taken quite a bit of effort on my part to get things to this point, but it was necessary. The world could not continue as it had before. Powers were becoming more and more common, and the normal, powerless sheep were scared enough to kill us all off. It was kill or be killed, and I'd learned that hunting people like me in a world where they were quickly becoming sparse wasn't as easy as it should be.

So as I sat on the throne, one of my more ostentatious props, I surveyed my kingdom with pleasure. My subjects were cowed, they loved me as a lamb loves his shepherd, and in my own way, I can say I loved them. I loved what they could offer me; power, blood, knowledge... It was sweet on the tongue.

"Bring me the woman." My voice was loud, echoing in the old warehouse that I had made my headquarters. Most of the more traditional seats of power had been destroyed in the war. I'd set fire to the white house and the pentagon myself and watched them burn, every single one of the people who had opposed me during the takeover turning to ash in the buildings.

The small man at my side nodded, taking light steps forward until he reached the door. "Bring her." His voice wass hushed, and as he spoke chains rattled beyond the wall, moving closer and closer. I closed my eyes, listening to the clinking of the metal I envisioned wrapped securely around her wrists and ankles, heavy and bruising against pale flesh.

The chains fell silent ten feet from me, and I let my eyes flutter open.

She looked so beautiful standing there, arms outstretched and tense in their bonds, blonde hair mussed and wild around her face. But her eyes... they burned with an anger I could understand completely.

"What, you couldn't be bothered to come see me?" She snapped, face tilting to the side in an effort to look unconcerned, but I could hear her heart beating wildly in her chest... and her thoughts.

_Fucking monster. I'll kill you. I'll fucking kill you. You're nothing but a good for nothing piece of shit. I'm gonna find your sweet spot and stick a blade so deep you'll never wake up. You good for nothing-_

I blocked out her thoughts and gave her a chill smile.

"As you can see, I was busy."

"Right."

I gave her no warning, the old familiar electricity Elle had been kind enough to donate to me came shooting through my palms. It encased her, lifting her off the floor and throwing her against the wall as thousands of volts of raw energy pulsed through her body. The scream she gave me was like music to my ears after ten years.

She clattered to the floor, chains burning white hot against bare skin and sizzling pleasantly. The smell of charred flesh was making the short man at my side nauseous.

"Leave." I said in his direction. The man nodded, bowing slightly before retreating with the rest of the people standing on the fringes of my vision.

And we were left alone.

I was out of my seat and by her side before she came back to herself, my palms stroking her face and cradling her head in my lap as she came back.

"Claire, you really should learn to mind your tongue." I whispered, leaning down and letting a light kiss drop on her forehead. Her hands wrapped around my neck quickly, chains twirling and constricting before I had a chance to react.

She was getting quick. It pleased me. I let her strangle me for a while, enjoying the pleasant fussiness that came with the loss of oxygen for a few seconds before I put a stop to it, reaching out with the puppeteers power and making her unwind her arms and set her hands gently in her lap.

I lay there for a few seconds against the wall before opening my eyes again and looking at her. She was crying, blinking furiously against the tears cascading down her face. God, she was so beautiful, especially with her cheeks all pink and glistening with tears like that.

"Shhh. It'll be alright." I whispered, drawing her down to me and settling her face against my shoulder. Moving her was like reshaping stone. "We can end this game of Cat and Mouse, Claire. It can all go back to the way it was." Her eyes fluttered shut and her jaw clenched tight. "Isn't that what you want."

"Fuck you." She whispered.

I chuckled.

"Oh Claire-Bear." She tensed beneath my touch again, just as she always did when I reminded her of what she'd lost. "You just don't know when to stop... So we're going to play for a while before my friends get back, and then I'll let you go again."

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, the tears she was shedding making her voice crack.

I frowned. It was a good question. Was there a simple answer? The way she screamed amused me. Her tears tugged at something deep inside me. She was the only person who could understand my immortality... she was my wife.

"Because I can." I answered simply, stroking her cheek before grinning again and letting my nails tear at the soft flesh there. Rivulets of blood blossomed against the pale white canvas before her skin mended, leaving only thin furrows of blood where open flesh had been.

She flinched as I chuckled.

"Your turn." I said simply before releasing her and striding to sit back on my throne. She moved to the middle of the room as I instructed. I suppose one could say she was compelled.

And I reminded her or what we had together, of the pain she seemed to live for. It never ceased to amaze me, the way her eyes would roll back in her head every time I made her hurt herself. Every drop of blood lost seemed to make her giddy, not that she noticed, but I did. The look she got in her eyes when I took her to the edges of what she could bear... it was the same look she used to get when I'd make her come. Of course, the pleasure she'd had back then had always been closely twined with pain... I wouldn't be surprised if she couldn't tell the difference anymore.

When we were done, I kissed her good bye, telling the people who followed my orders to drop her somewhere safe.

That night, I met with the remaining world leaders. I took pleasure in watching the life leave their eyes.

Afterward, in the dark as I dreamed of the defiant young wife I hadn't had in sixty years, I let myself go. I lay there for the rest of the night, damp sheets against sweat soaked skin as I tossed and turned, imagining she was there with me, soft moans and muffled shrieks keeping me company as I came.

**_A/N: Thank you for all the comments and support! We love to hear from you. Reviews make our day and keep us motivated. -- Mel and Chuck_**


	4. November 2527

NOVEMBER 2527

Through the years, I have been in a unique position to watch human evolution. Certainly there has been a shift in the distribution of abilities; people with powers were once considered freaks—a genetic anomaly. Now the people without powers are unlikely to live very long, and the onetime minority overruns much of the world. Of course, I did have something to do with that, but I like to think that it was largely inevitable.

Humans have also evolved in a subtler and far more interesting way. They have become more emotionally and mentally isolated from each other, a byproduct of their fear. "Survival of the fittest" is not really the axiom I'd use to describe it—if that were the case, I would be the only person on earth. I think it was John Donne who wrote "No man is an island." I've never liked that phrase. If people now were to hear it, they would laugh. It is often every man for himself, and courtesy does not generally extend outside of one's immediate family. There was a time when an easy smile and a charming demeanor could move strangers to open up to me, accept me, invite me inside. Now I have to stalk them, hunt them like the dumb animals they are, and use brute force to accomplish my goals.

I've been led to believe that the woman living on this street has the ability to control the flow of time. People who can stop time and teleport are extremely rare. I haven't found one since Hiro Nakamura's death in the 2000s, and I never had the chance to acquire his power. An aneurysm killed him before I could. This painfully thin and obviously malnourished creature could be exactly what I'm looking for.

I watch her sneak into a dark and trash-filled alleyway. She crouches on the ground and inhales something from a small bag. Drug addict. No one will miss her anyway. I move swiftly to stand in front of her, pulling her to her feet and holding her at my eye level. Her pupils are dilated and her breathing comes in shallow gasps. I'll have to make this quick before she is entirely useless to me.

I move my finger in a familiar gesture, cutting across her forehead. "Nooo," she moans once before falling silent. I reached her just in time, it seems. She wouldn't have lasted the night.

I find what I'm looking for quickly. As I stand, I sway as a shocking realization knocks me off balance. Something is wrong. Missing.

The hunger.

The hunger, the insatiable need to learn at whatever cost, is gone. I have enough sense to start moving away from the scene at my feet as I rapidly assess what is happening to me. It is a skill I acquired about 130 years after Claire and I were married—an old man who had the ability to process information preternaturally quickly. It's not helping me very much right now.

Is it something the woman did to me? No, that's unlikely. She was barely alive, there's no way she could have done this. My mind speeds through every possible option twice before I realize that there is only one answer I can think of.

Perhaps, after all these centuries, I have taken for myself every power that exists. If there is nothing left to learn from the brains of the weak, maybe I've risen as far as I can. I suppose it had to happen sooner or later…

I come home to find my seven-year-old pouting on the couch and her mother in the kitchen. Rather than say anything, I allow Claire to give voice to her irritated thoughts.

"Gabriel, we need a new house," she starts, her tone filled with resolve. I sigh and shrug out of my jacket. I don't want to deal with this right now. Not tonight, when my entire existence has been tilted off its axis. I throw my jacket carelessly onto the table and pull out a chair.

Claire continues, "Dani needs her own room, her own space. We're driving each other crazy, and she's too old to be sleeping in a corner of the living room. We need to move _soon_."

"Please stop talking," I whisper. "We can discuss this later." I rest my head in my hands, elbows on the table. What is happening to me, and how do I fix it?

"Gabriel?" My wife's voice has become anxious. "Are you okay?" She steps closer to me, but hesitates to touch me. I ignore her, still trying to think. What is going on?

I sit that way for a minute before Claire's hand reaches out to my shoulder. _Gabriel? What's wrong? _She stands behind me, hands on my shoulders. Her thoughts are worried and frightened. _Something's happened to him. Are we safe?_ I tune her out and enjoy the silence.

We separate when Danielle calls from the sofa, "Mommy? Can I get off the couch now?" Claire's been experimenting with 'time out', and it appears to be working most of the time.

"Yes, Dani, you can," Claire answers after a pause. "Come say hi to your daddy. He's had a bad day." She cocks an eyebrow at me and returns to putting dishes away. Damn it, Claire. You have no fucking clue.

My daughter runs in and hugs me with all the compassion a young child can muster.

"I'm sorry you had a bad day, Daddy. Mommy yelled at me today because I made a mess and told me to sit in time out. Did someone yell at you, too?" Her eyes are wide and sympathetic. I am amused at her questions.

"No, Danielle. No one yelled at me. And if they want to live, they certainly don't give me orders." Danielle nods wisely at my words, though I doubt she fully understands me. Her mother is a different story.

"'Daddy'?" she asks sweetly. "Do you think we could put the dark egotism on hold until bedtime?" I snicker and pull Danielle into my lap. She tells me about the rest of her day as I ready her for bed and tuck her in.

"Daddy, Mommy said maybe I can get my own room if we have a new house. Really?" Danielle's face shines with excitement at the idea, and I smile at her and tell her maybe.

I go to our room to find Claire undressing for bed. I'm temporarily distracted by her flawless skin and golden complexion before remembering my irritation with her. My hand on the back of her neck stills her movement.

"Don't," I growled, "tell her those sorts of things. Don't promise her a new house when I haven't agreed to it, and don't use her to soften me up. My day is none of her concern." Her neck is bruising under my grip, and I can feel her skin temperature rising along with her temper. I turn her with a quick movement so I can feel the full force of her glare.

"What is going on, Gabriel? You can't come home like this and not tell me anything at all," she protests. I reach out with my consciousness to check that our daughter is still sleeping, and direct Claire's hand to the knife.

"You know me well enough to read my moods, I would think. So remember to _be quiet_, and not bother me with so many damned questions," I say as she cuts off the first half of her tongue. The sadist in me thrills to see her look of disgust as I allow her to dispose of the flesh in the bathroom trash. Claire returns free of my control; I am not in the mood to torture her tonight. She comes out at a run and sticks the blade up under my ribs.

"Say whatever you like," she hisses as I pull the blade free of my body and slash her across the cheek. "This is about what happened to you today, not about me, and if you won't talk to me, I can't help you. This isn't a tyranny anymore. You have a family, and that means I need to be part of this." She moves in on me, sliding up to kiss the hollow of my throat.

I remain cold. "I will not discuss this tonight."

She drops back, frustrated, and we get into bed. She falls asleep quickly, but I lie awake most of the night. My hunger is gone. Is this a good thing? I've lived with it for so long that I now feel as though I am missing something. What am I supposed to do now? Finally I sit up and think _I may as well try out the power that started this_.

I focus on stopping time, no more, and manage it easily. When I restart the clock a few minutes later though, I am rewarded with a burning headache and a pounding behind my eyes. I can only imagine what a longer time-stop would do to me. Perhaps this has something to do with why my prey was strung out on painkillers.

I've acquired an ability that I am unable to utilize, all for nothing. My missing hunger has left me feeling confused and disoriented. What does this mean for me? What does it mean for my family?

**_A/N: Thank you for all the comments and support! We love to hear from you. Reviews make our day and keep us motivated. -- Mel and Chuck_**


	5. November 2527 2

_The Next Morning_

I've been thinking things through all night, weighing the pros and cons of a life without the blood lust, the insatiable hunger that made me into the man I am today. Its not as easy as it may sound. I don't even know the consequences of this loss. How will I change... do I _want_ to change? What will happen to all the powers I have obtained? Is the rest of my ability still intact?

I roll out of bed. Claire's eyes fly open as the weight beside her shifts. She has always been a light sleeper.

"Go back to sleep." I can feel her scowl boring into the back of my head.

"I'm still mad at you," her tone is hard, accusatory. I roll my eyes and turn to face her, sitting back on the edge of the bed, boxer shorts riding up high on my thighs.

"You're acting like an infant." I say. She props her self up on one elbow and lets out a soft bark of laughter to tell me I don't amuse her.

"And you're being more moody than our daughter."

I let out a growl. I'm losing my temper.

The electricity rips from my palms and through her body, she lets out a long, drawn out groan. It looks like my abilities are still working. I reach for another, drawing something out I haven't used in a while just to make sure I still can.

Her skin on fire is so delicate, bubbling and sizzling beneath the flames as they caress bare flesh. I let the flames die, satisfied for the moment. As she heals, I draw her towards me. She's shaking.

"What is it about you that makes me so angry?" I croon the words, stroking her cheek as my other hand slips down her body to the hem of the t-shirt she wears. It's an old green thing, mine once upon a time.

"What's wrong?" she croaks. Her lips are chapped and her mouth is dry. I kiss her, moistening her lips with mine before drawing back.

"What's wrong?" I chuckle darkly. "The fact that you're still dressed when I want you." I use both of my hands now, pulling the old shirt up and over her body, leaving her nude before me. Mine. There's something almost sinful about the way she looks, all soft curves and taut lines. She looks so young. People on the street mistake her for a teenager more often than not... and isn't she? She could still wear that cheerleader's uniform and get away with it, because her body still is a teenagers. I wonder for a moment what kind of sick fuck I am for wanting it so badly before I push the thought away in favor of embracing the moment.

As she falls to the bed, I follow her, covering her body with my own. I love being here, above her. The way she moans and writhes makes me feel like a god, makes me want more. Seeing things from the perspective of the hunter, watching as she undulates beneath me and comes when I tell her too... its almost as good as killing.

She moves as I caress, stroking her bare breasts in lazy circles as her small fingers draw my boxers down and stroke until I'm more than ready to spill myself in her hands. As if she hears my thoughts, her hands leave me cold, dancing up across my abdomen and chest, taking a firm hold of my shoulders. She's ready.

I drive myself into her then and lose track of it all. When I'm with her like this, nothing else seems to matter. I don't remember that I'm angry, or that a part of me is missing completely. All I can focus on are the sounds she makes, the way she feels clenched around me and pulsing as she comes...

When its over, I move myself, withdrawing and laying next to her. Her chest is heaving, breasts rising and falling as they glisten beneath a thin sheen of perspiration.

I take a nipple in my mouth, grazing it with teeth and watching her gasp in reaction before I chuckle, releasing her breast and laying my cheek on her belly.

"Gabriel?" her voice is soft, her fingers twining in my hair. "Please."

My eyes flutter shut, I can feel my lashes as they settle on my cheekbones.

"Something... has changed." I force the words out, tracing the curve of my wife's hip with one finger and dropping a kiss beside her navel. She waits for me to continue. "Last night, I took a power. A drug addict with Hiro Nakamura's power."

"She could freeze time. And... teleport?" I nod. She sighs and strokes my cheek. "That doesn't seem like something that would put you in a bad mood," she says, "You're usually much happier when you get something you want." I smirk against her belly.

"Usually," I take a deep breath. "I don't come away from a kill without the hunger." She freezes, I can feel the shock in her body as she tenses.

"Without..." she sits up, hands cradling my head as she draws me up to face her. "It's gone?"

I frown, there's something hopeful in her eyes that I don't like. I let my mind open and her thoughts come rushing in.

"_Without the hunger, he could be different. No more killing. No more blood. Peace. No more Sylar-"_ I cut her thoughts off abruptly and let my anger bubble up. The back of my hand knocks her across the bed. The thunk of her head against the far wall is sickening and satisfying.

"Bitch." I hiss, her body fly's back towards me as I call for it. I hit her again to vent the fury. "What have I told you a thousand times! _I. AM. SYLAR!" _She whimpers as I choke her, shaking and crushing with my hands, pummeling with my fists. I feel her right cheekbone give way beneath the weight of my fist. I hadn't even realized I had begun punching her.

The shock sinks bone deep as I release her. She falls back onto the bed, a motionless mass of bruised flesh and tears.

And I feel... horror. I can't get out of the house fast enough. Danielle has woken up and is sitting upright in her bed by the door of the kitchen.

"Daddy?"

I ignore her, flying through the room and melting through the door without opening it. Outside, I become the shadows, racing through alleyway after alleyway, until I find myself at the edge of the island facing a harbor.

I collapse into a fishing boat, breathing harshly.

I lost control. I didn't pay attention. I wasn't in control.

What have I done?

As my mind races and my thoughts spiral out of control, it dawns on me. The hunger is gone, the focus that made me the calculating killer I was. Sylar has been maimed, and I am left incomplete, out of control.

As my thoughts continue to reel, I feel the hot tears on my cheeks and the salty sea air whipping at me where I lay.

The hunger has gone.

I am Sylar.

**_A/N: Thank you for all the comments and support! We love to hear from you. Reviews make our day and keep us motivated. -- Mel and Chuck_**


	6. November 2527 3

_Later…_

I don't return home for many hours. Instead, I spend the day trying to figure out the exact correlation between the loss of my hunger and the loss of control I experienced. At periodic intervals, though, I check in on my family. Claire is dead-set on pretending things are normal. Danielle asks more than once about me, but the only reply she receives is "Daddy's having a tough time right now."

It's very late as I come back to the house. I walk through the door, careful not to disturb Danielle's slumber. She is sleeping soundly, and I caress her hair before moving silently to my bedroom. I can hear Claire in the shower, unaware of my presence. What am I doing here? I don't know whether to apologize or explain myself.

I seat myself on the edge of our bed to wait for my wife, a million things running through my mind at once. What am I supposed to do? I haven't felt this lost since I gained the ability to shape-shift. I'd thought I was losing myself—an identity crisis. And isn't that, essentially, what's happening now? What do I say to her?

Claire leaves the bathroom wrapped in a towel, sees me, and stops. Her eyes widen and I can see they are red. Her mind is a blur of emotions, until her gaze stops on my face. I can only guess that it reveals some part of my anguish, because she embraces me without thought, resting her damp head on my chest.

"Shhh," she whispers as I tremble with repressed tears. "You can figure this out. We'll be okay. It'll be all right." Like her words, her thoughts are a repetition of soothing reassurances. I regain control of myself presently and pull away from her.

Claire looks at me for a long moment before going to the closet to dress for bed. "We need to talk about what to do, Gabriel. Not just about this morning." I listen to her, marveling anew at my wife's stubborn strength and ability to ignore the unpleasant in favor of concentrating on what needs to be done.

"I'm sorry," she says, "that you and I don't agree on the hunger issue. I don't think that my reaction was unjustified, though."

"How many times do I need to demonstrate for you, Claire? You cannot separate one half of me from the other."

"Apparently entire aspects of your behavior can just disappear, though," she retorts with a mean edge to her voice. She chokes for a minute or so before I can rein in my temper and release her throat from my phantom grip.

She regains her voice and rasps, "Fine. We'll just leave that alone for now." I stand and start pacing our tiny bedroom as she goes on. "Now. Would you care to explain what happened this morning?"

I am silent. I still don't know what to say. Her voice becomes softer. "I've known you for a long time, Gabriel. I can't think of a single time that you've acted the way you did this morning. You acted…barbarically. You've never been like that before." She sounds frightened.

_Of course she's afraid. Her big, bad monster has gotten even scarier_, I think to myself bitterly.

"I…this hunger, Claire. It shaped me into a killer, but it was also a compass. I killed because I had to; I didn't run around slaughtering without purpose. My north star is gone. I'm left with the experience and instincts that come from being a murderer for hundreds of years, and now I don't know what to do with it. I…I lost control."

I hang my head, ashamed. God, I sound so weak. Pathetic.

"What happened this morning will not be repeated," I promise her. She examines my face openly and nods.

"No, it won't. But how could you just leave like that? How was I supposed to know whether you would ever come back?" she asks indignantly, angrily.

"What would you have done if I never did?" I ask.

She tilts her head defiantly. "I would have moved. We still need a new house, and you would find us if you wanted to." I smile; hundreds of years have taught her well.

"I came back, though. Let's not get bogged down by hypothetical situations," I tell her, unbuttoning my stolen shirt. Fleeing the house naked was not the most well thought-out decision I've ever made, but it was easy enough to appropriate clothes that fit me.

"Fine." She hesitates. "Gabriel. What happened today was bad…but I can deal with it. I'm fine. But don't lose control around Dani. I don't think any of us could recover from that." I shudder inwardly at the thought of harming our daughter the way I did my wife. No, Claire is right. I will need to be extra careful around Danielle.

Claire remains standing at the foot of the bed, a look of uncertainty on her face. I slide between the sheets and read her mind as she bites her lower lip. There are no words, but her thoughts are full of an unnamable fear. She's afraid to lie down next to me. Uncharacteristic and bitter regret stabs at me again.

"Claire." I speak her name as I gaze steadily at her torn expression. She won't look at me, and I reach out for her strings. She moves smoothly to slip into bed, and I pull her against me as I tell her the words I have rarely needed to say in my long life.

"I'm so sorry."

Her arms slowly encircle my waist and she holds me, silently accepting my apology. There is still a wariness in her though, like that of a wild animal. But she rests against me and sighs, a small measure of relief and contentment in the gesture. She will forgive me.

"Tomorrow I will start looking for our new home." _Maybe_, I think as weariness takes over, _maybe we just need a fresh start._

**_A/N: Thank you for all the comments and support! We love to hear from you. Reviews make our day and keep us motivated. -- Mel and Chuck_**


	7. December 2527

_DECEMBER 2527 _

The new house belongs in a magazine, so I won't go into detail about how I got the last owner to hand it over. Its beautiful, large, and stylish. A two story with three bedrooms and two baths on the second floor and a guest room with a half bath on the first, its larger than anything either Claire or I have owned in the last couple centuries. On the edge of Manhatten, it was built to imitate the suburbs of long ago, now decaying pits for the drug addicts and orphans who escape the guards to rot in. We have neighbors now. Of course, we did before, but these actually make an effort to learn one another's names. Here, on the fringes of the common society, I see the beginnings of a new evolution among people. They're almost ready to let themselves care for others, almost secure enough in the day to day workings of the world to care for the finer things in life.

The knock on the door sets all of us on edge. At the table, Danielle drops her pencil across the lined paper she was practicing her penmanship on. Claire's hand grasps the hilt of the blade at her waist. We meet each other's gaze. I can see the fear there.

I make my way to the door, ruffling Danielle's hair on the way and telling her to keep practicing. For a seven year old she's a fairly good writer, but her untidy scrawl leaves a lot to be desired.

The door is locked, of course. Despite the new houses beauty and relative grandeur, it is still built for security. Windows are bullet proof and refortified, the door is heavy and metal with about ten different locks, and the entire house is wired for security. I peer through the peep hole as I catalog the home's securities.

On our front stoop, three people stand. A wary looking man with salt and pepper hair and bright green eyes keeps his hand on the hilt of the gun at his hip. A tall brunette woman stands beside him with a platter full of baked goods; the bracelet soldered onto her wrist matches her husband's, it's one of the more curious customs of this generation, a more dramatic exchange of rings than Claire and I experienced. And at their side stands a boy. He's maybe ten and looks bored, his dark hair and keen eyes sweep across the front of the door before settling back on his shoes.

I roll my eyes and open the door. We haven't even finished furnishing the place and the neighbors have descended.

"Yes?" My tone is abrupt and the woman looks taken aback. The man frowns.

"Oh," she says, trying to regain her composure. I can hear her thoughts as she struggles to stay warm and friendly. _Well, just introduce yourself, I'm sure he's living here with family. Say it. Say my name is-_

"Hello," she says, smiling warmly. "My name is Lara, this is my husband, Jace, and our son, Kale." Her words come out in an amusing rush and I can't help but smirk.

"Really?" I say, the single word more a comment than a question.

The woman looks taken aback and I can see the mans hand shift on the gun. The boy smiles. That's odd.

I study him more closely. He's tall for his age with bright blue eyes and pale skin. I listen in to his thoughts. _"-Tall. Mom's gonna pee herself if he doesn't invite us in. I hope we don't have to stay long, I really want to go back and play in the tree house, I mean, dad and I just built it yesterday and mom won't let me-" _I can't help smiling just a bit. This boys thoughts are almost as disorganized as my daughters.

"Yes, um..." The woman's voice trails off before she swallows and continues. "We live across the street in the yellow house. We just thought we'd stop by and say hello. It's always nice to get a new neighbor." I zone out as she continues to prattle, reaching out with my powers to check theirs. I am surprised by what I find.

The husband has influence, the kind I'd used to make my way to the top of society. No matter what he says, it will be believed. It's a rare gift, and a strong one. It's the type of power that takes a lot of focus not to abuse, the kind of thing that could make people believe anything you wanted. No wonder he hasn't said much. The mother is equally as powerful, a brush of her hand against any inanimate object will give her the history of the thing she has touched. That one had been useful too. And the boy.

I feel his power and shudder. I can't help myself. It's like brushing up against my own gravestone. I feel his power rush through me and my mouth waters. I take a step forward, drawn by what I feel, my eyes intent on the child.

"Hello," Claire's voice from behind me startles and I tear my gaze away from the boy. "I'm Claire and this is my daughter, Danielle. I see You've already met my husband, Gabriel." My eyes trail back to the woman where she stands. She looks taken aback and I remember what we must look like to others. My wife is barely more than a teenager in their eyes.

"Oh. Um, its a pleasure." Lara says, extending a hand. Claire takes it with a brilliant smile before extending a hand to first the man and then the boy. The child is barely half a foot shorter than she is. He's going to be a giant when he grows up... and a monster.

I can still feel it, the gentle brush of the boys growing hunger against the vacant spot where my own desire should be. He's like me, a child who can learn like he breathes, who is learning every day that something is missing...

Claire's hand on my arm brings me back to reality and I take a step back. Danielle's hand finds its way into my own and I hang on for dear life. Everything in me is screaming, begging for me to grab the boy and cut him open, take what should be mine... my daughter's hand in mine keeps me grounded as I fight the urge, blocking out the feel of his power.

"Hi. I'm Dani." She's speaking to the boy, her long blonde hair fluttering in the biting winter breeze. She's smiling at him and he smiles back.

"I'm Kale," the boy says, extending a hand. I snatch Danielle back before they can make contact, pulling her close and staring down at the boy. Claire glances sharply at me before looking back at the family on our porch. The father is still standing like a statue, the mother is smiling nervously, the platter in her hands. And the boy is scowling up at me, eyes dark and full of resentment.

Claire looks sharply at me and then back at the woman, Lara.

"I do apologize," she says sweetly, "Dani's been sick lately and my husbands a tad protective, especially with the move. I'm sure you can understand." The woman smiles and nods, not completely convinced but more understanding.

"Of course," She says before holding out the platter and giving us one last brilliant smile. "Well, we just wanted to introduce ourselves and leave these with you."

Claire smiles graciously and takes the platter. The two women chat a bit more about the move and the neighborhood before we close the door on the other family and watch them make their way across the unpaved street through our front window. Half way across, the little boy stops, turning to look back at our home. Danielle see's him and raises one hand to wave. The boy smiles, waves back, and continues into his home.

As my daughter makes her way back into the kitchen, I stare out the window.

Claire pauses in the doorway, looking back at me.

"What was that about?" she questions. I shrug, looking over my shoulder to meet her gaze.

"Nothing." I say, "Just as you said, the move has been stressful." She looks doubtful, but chooses not to take her questions any further. Wise of her.

I continue to stare out the window, thinking of the boy, thinking of the hunger. It's been nearly a month since I lost it, maybe this is a sign. I scoff at myself. A sign? How cliché.

Whatever this is its an opportunity, and I never let an opportunity pass me by.

**_A/N: Thank you for all the comments and support! We love to hear from you. Reviews make our day and keep us motivated. -- Mel and Chuck_**


	8. January 2528

JANUARY 2528

I sit on the couch, taking a break for the morning. Danielle is in her room, enjoying her own space, and I can hear her singing to herself.

We're still in the last stages of unpacking our belongings, making this house feel like our home. It was a good decision, moving here. Even when I am tuning out my family's thoughts, I can feel their happiness at the change of scenery, the novelty of a house that fits us.

Claire drops next to me with a sigh. "Happy New Year," she whispers.

With our limitless life spans, it isn't a holiday we celebrate anymore. In Claire's case, it's a reminder of the fact that she has outlived most everyone she's loved, and that there isn't really an end in sight. Even now, when I know that she is happy with life, with me and Danielle, there is a wistful quality to her words. Another year and we have not changed. I see no problem with this, but it's been her outlook for so long now that it is hard for her to alter it.

"Try not to be so depressed," I comment. "It'll make the next few millennia so much harder to stomach." She slaps my arm half-heartedly at my words and I chuckle.

"Really, though. At some point you'll come to fully appreciate this gift you've been given, and then you will literally have a world of possibilities open to you," I tell her as she rests her head on my shoulder.

"Whatever," she says. "Let's just keep going. I want to be done with this today." She hops us from the sofa and I smile again at her avoidance of a subject that makes her uncomfortable. We work until around one, when Danielle comes out of her room asking for lunch.

"Daddy," she starts around a mouthful of peanut-butter and jelly sandwich.

"Don't talk with your mouth full, Dani," Claire interrupts. "Swallow your food first." Danielle does as her mother instructs and starts again.

"Daddy, are we supposed to bring food to our neighbors like they did for us?" she asks innocently. I repress a growl at the idea of visiting our neighbors.

"No Danielle. There is no need for us to visit them at all. It's unnecessary." We finish lunch in relative quiet and Claire starts Danielle on her handwriting practice. Once our daughter is settled, Claire draws me aside to our room.

"Gabriel, what is it with you and the neighbors? I let it alone, but I don't understand why you're being like this."

"I don't have a problem with you and me spending time with them, but Danielle needs to be kept away from that boy. He could be dangerous to her." And she doesn't need to get involved with my business, I add silently. I don't know yet what will happen to the boy, but he may well be mine. The situation must be approached carefully.

"Dangerous?" Claire repeats. "What can he do?"

"I couldn't see," I lie to her. "I'm still not sure, but I'm unwilling to expose her to such an unknown." And when it comes down to it, neither is Claire. She nods, accepting my explanation without another word. She kisses my cheek and starts organizing our things, making a semblance of order.

I walk back downstairs to find Danielle standing near the front door.

"Danielle? What are you doing?"

"Someone knocked on the door, Daddy," she replies. "Can I answer it?" I look through the peephole and see Kale standing on our step by himself. Odd. It's certainly safer here than in the city, but to let a child wander outside unattended seems foolish.

"Actually, Danielle, Mommy asked me to send you upstairs to help her tidy our bedroom," I tell my daughter. She nods and runs upstairs. I turn and open the door slowly.

"Hi," the boy says. And that's it. No explanation for his arrival, just "hi."

"What do you want?" I ask. No need to be polite until I know why he's here.

"I was wondering if maybe Dani would like to play," he replies, tilting his head as he looks up at me. Something about him leaves me cold. This boy will be dangerous.

"My daughter's busy right now. Sorry," I tell him, not sorry at all.

"Oh, okay. Well, if she'd like to see our tree house, tell her to come over sometime," he offers innocently. His eyes hold mine a moment longer than they should.

"Sounds good. Goodbye, Kale." But he doesn't move, just stares at me.

"You're different than everyone else," he says, still searching my face, "You're special."

And even though I know he's only ten and it's childish of me, I reply, "You have no idea."

He smiles, nods once, and turns his back on me. Few people do that; it makes them feel vulnerable. This boy is a cocky little bastard. He looks back at me and calls, "Happy New Year."

I don't mention his visit to Claire, and Danielle has already forgotten about the knock on the door. I need to decide what to do about this boy.

**_A/N: Thank you for all the comments and support! We love to hear from you. Reviews make our day and keep us motivated. -- Mel and Chuck_**


	9. March 2528

MARCH 2528

"She needs a friend, Gabriel," my wife argues with me. "Dani needs socialization, and she can't spend her whole life indoors or with one of us."

Yesterday the boy showed up at our home again, and Claire was the one to open the door. Now her bleeding heart has been roused, and she's convinced that Kale and Danielle should play together.

"He is not a normal child. You're putting her at risk with this stupid idea," I tell her, glad that Danielle is at the other end of the hall and fast asleep.

"Nothing is going to happen. She'll be right across the street—or fine, Kale can come over here. And even if she were somehow to get hurt, she heals the same as you and me. She can't die! I don't see why you're being so irrational," Claire tells me. I still haven't told her about the boy's budding hunger. If she knew, I think she might be concerned about what that means for Dani. Not to mention what it means for me. If I can find a way to take his hunger from him…

"You don't know everything, Claire. If something were to happen, we would have to leave this place, and I know you don't want that. Danielle doesn't want that."

"No, what she _wants_ is to play with someone her own age."

"He's not her own age; he's three years older than she is," I correct her. She rolls her eyes at my differentiation.

"Yes, and I can see how that's such a big difference," she says sarcastically. "After all, it's so much better for her to spend all her time with two people who are hundreds of years older than she is. Three years is not bad, especially when children are scarce. Let her have a chance to meet someone new."

I grit my teeth, trying to stay level-headed. A red haze blurs my eyes and I feel a growing need to cause someone harm. My fists ball up.

"Claire," I grind out, "Let it go. I'm not in the mood to discuss this with you." I wave her over as I speak, gripping her upper arms. "Do you understand me?" Her bones creak under the pressure and she glares up at me.

"You can't use your new hair-trigger temper to get what you want. I'm not letting this go," she says.

"Then you're going to get hurt," I warn her.

"Do it," she counters. "Hurt me, but I want Kale here before it's too late for him to come over." I growl as she taunts, "What's the matter, think I can't take it? Or would you rather just admit that I'm right?"

A flick of fingers has her knife in hand, and she starts mechanically cutting herself. Her eyes are steady on my face, narrowing with every wound I give her. I guess it was too optimistic to think that the carpet would remain spotless for very long.

My bloodlust is being translated to something else entirely as I watch her shiver and twitch. My wife, the hopeless masochist. It would be sick if I weren't her perfect counterpart. I let her drop the knife and compel her to leave her clothing on the bloody carpet before laying herself out on the bed.

I take up the knife and sit between her legs, tracing shallow cuts onto her stomach and thighs. She is quivering by the time I let the knife go, remove my own clothes, and release her. My teeth tear at her skin, the violence inside me dissipating with every temporary mark I leave on her. She pants beneath me, giving me my own scratches and bites, tit for tat.

She has the incredible gall to hiss at me, "Give me what I want, unless you'd rather screw a puppet."

I chuckle and reach between her legs, making her gasp and arch up. "That's not what I meant. Invite him over for Dani."

How the hell can she think about that right now? I growl and rut into her, but I can feel her distancing herself.

"God damn it, Claire," I groan. "Fine!" She relaxes immediately, and we resume what we started. I can hear the relief in her thoughts.

_Thank God. I don't think I could've lasted_. I feel magnanimous now as I make her shudder and cry out, arching against me until I empty myself inside her. I doubt I could have lasted either. We lie there panting and when Claire can breathe again, she nuzzles into my chest.

"Thank you, Gabriel." God, the way she says my name. It's beautiful. I rest my head atop hers until she moves to get up.

True to her word, she dresses and sends Danielle across the street to invite Kale over. He follows her back, chatting amicably. He nods and listens as she speaks, and I tense at the way he watches her. I get dressed and head downstairs.

Danielle's dragging Kale through every room, showing off our new house. Kale pauses when he sees me.

"Hello, Mr. Gray," he greets me. If I had to name his attitude, it would be wary—but confident. As though he were sizing me up and comparing me to himself. It's unsettling, coming from such a young boy. He seems just a little too eager to see me, when he should be running.

I grunt a reply and subtly watch him interact with my daughter. I still don't know what to think of him, but I'll be damned if I leave him alone with Danielle.

**_A/N: Thank you for all the comments and support! We love to hear from you. Reviews make our day and keep us motivated. -- Mel and Chuck_**


	10. June 2528

JUNE 2528

He's at our house all the time now, and it's fraying my nerves.

"Why don't we go play in my tree house, Dani?" Kale suggests. He glances at me, as though he knows the conflict his question will cause.

Claire speaks up, "Are you parents at home, Kale?" He looks to her and straightens up.

"No ma'am. But they wouldn't mind, as long as we're not in the house making a mess." Claire's gaze strays to me imperceptibly, and she is making her line of thought purposefully clear.

_That seems unsafe…but we're right across the street…and if anyone got hurt, it wouldn't be our kid…_

I suppress a laugh at her uncharitable thinking and tell the two hopeful faces that they can go play, as long as they're safe and stay within sight of our front door. It strikes me again how quickly the new scene has allowed us to lower our defenses—Danielle would never have been able to do this in our old neighborhood. Of course, had she lived when Claire or I were young, she could have done a lot of things that we now consider dangerous or foolhardy.

Claire puts on her tennis shoes and goes for a run, leaving me to myself in the house. For once, I have peace and quiet. I don't really know what to do with myself. Trapped by the need to supervise my daughter and her new friend, I feel restless and bored. I content myself with slouching on the sofa, daydreaming, going back through my countless memories. It distracts me until my ears suddenly pick up a sound from farther away than the comfort of my living room—a juvenile scream and a sickening crack.

I move inhumanly quickly, kneeling on the grass beside my daughter's still form before Kale is all the way out of the tree and onto the ground. His face is tear-streaked and he is stammering as he tries to explain what has happened.

"She took a step back and fell—I'm sorry—it's not my fault. Is she dead?" he blubbers as I assess the damage done. Broken spine, probably some cracked ribs. Her body is twisted and her limbs are askew. I gather her into my arms and thank God that Claire isn't here right now. Her hysterics, combined with Kale's tears, would be too much. As it is…

"Be quiet," I snap, and Kale's tears instantly stop. The puppeteer's power is quite possibly one of the most useful things I have ever inherited. He watches, mute and staring, as Danielle's bones knit together and her joints pop back into place. I heave an internal sigh of relief—it is one thing to know that she has regenerative powers—quite another to be physically reminded of the fact. She rotates her head from side to side and sits up.

"Hi Daddy." She smiles. I will never understand the love she has for me. It's practically idolatrous.

"Danielle," I breathe, "You need to be more careful, honey." She looks to Kale and then back to me.

"How come Kale isn't moving? Did you do that?"

"Yes. I had to make sure you were okay," I say as I release him from my hold. He starts shaking, looking from me to Danielle and back to me again.

"Dani? You're all right?" he asks, looking as though he's had the rug pulled out from under him.

"Yes. Why are you crying?" She speaks as though nothing happened to her. And from her point of view, nothing has. I'd guess that she died on impact, so she likely didn't have time to register the pain.

"You…you fell. And you were all messed up, and I thought you were dead," he stammers. I stand, taking my daughter's hand in mine.

"I think it might be best if you go back into the house if you're going to continue playing," I comment. The boy looks as though he might be in shock. "We'll have a snack."

Kale follows us back home, still trembling uncontrollably. _He's going to kill me. Dani got hurt and he's going to kill me. She's alive. How did that happen? _For the first time, he seems properly frightened of me, but now I'm not sure why. Is he concerned that I will punish him for what's happened, or is this a deeper, more legitimate fear that I will take what I want from him?

I fix them some peanut-butter crackers and leave them at the table. I listen in on their conversation from the living room.

"Dani, how did it…how did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"You…" he stops, frustrated by the limits of language, "you fixed yourself. You were broken, and then you woke up."

Danielle pauses for a long time. I follow her train of thought, Broken? I fell, and then Daddy was there, and I was fine. Her mind struggles to recall, and then….Water.

"I think," she says uncertainly, "it might have happened before. I think maybe Daddy fixes me when I get hurt."

"Your dad fixes you," Kale repeats skeptically. "Is that what he does?"

"Well, he makes Mommy all better when she gets hurt," she says staunchly.

"But, I mean…is that his power?" Among adults, it is often considered rude to be too inquisitive about abilities, but between children this tacit code is relaxed. I tense at this line of questioning coming from the child, though. It feels like he's prying into my life.

Danielle's voice and tone are smug, confident. "Daddy can do everything."

She's too young to know just how right she is. I smirk in the other room, reveling in my daughter's familial pride.

"Not everything," Kale scoffs. "That's impossible. You can't have more than one power." What a self-important little know-it-all.

"I don't know what 'powers' are," Danielle says, clearly out of her element. Of course she doesn't know. She has no idea that not everyone can heal from every injury they receive, having grown up with only her mother and me for company.

"You don't know what powers are?" Kale asks incredulously. "Do you live under a rock?" Danielle remains silent as her friend continues.

He gives a short explanation of what 'powers' are, though he is somewhat stunted in his own understanding—after all, he hasn't exactly grown up in a large circle of people. His conclusion, though, gives me chills. It's hauntingly similar to how I would describe my original ability.

"Like me. If I can see the inside of something, I know how it works. I could take it apart, and put it back together, because I just know how it works." His voice has taken on a proud tone; he clearly thinks himself superior to both of his parents. As I read his mind, I see a lack of real respect for anyone other than himself. Except…except me.

He respects me.

**_A/N: Thank you for all the comments and support! We love to hear from you. Reviews make our day and keep us motivated. -- Mel and Chuck_**


	11. June 2528 2

_That Night…_

We're sitting around the dinner table, iceberg lettuce with sliced tomatoes and boiled eggs for the evening meal. Rabbit food. Danielle is poking at the green leaves with her fork, pulling faces and staring sullenly at the cookies in the middle of the table, the one's her mother is saving for dessert. She's learned by now that wasting food means she doesn't get a treat before bed, and as disgusting as I think the whole grain, naturally healthy cookies are, Danielle loves them.

"Mommy?"

"Dani, don't talk with your mouth full." The little girl glowers and chews hastily before swallowing and looking back up. Her fork clatters to her plate and Claire sighs. It's going to be a fight to get her to pick it back up and finish eating.

"What's your power?"I can feel Claire stiffen on the other side of the table and my own fork pauses on its way back to the plate before me.

"Where did you hear about powers, sweetheart?"

"Kale told me that everyone's got a power, after I fell out of the tree."

I can hear Claire's thoughts, directed at me, irritation evident.

_Did you know about this?_

I nod slightly and Claire turns back to Danielle.

"You fell out of the tree, baby?"

"Uh-huh. But I was ok. Daddy came and picked me up. But then Kale said everyone's got a power, and that Daddy can't do everything. And then he said _his _Daddy can make people do things, so I told him my Daddy was a burjillion times better than his, and then he called me a liar." Danielle takes a deep breath before continuing. "And he said he could fix stuff, and his Mommy could know things about stuff, like where it's been, and that I could probably fix myself. He wouldn't believe me when I told him that Daddy fixed stuff."

Claire's eyes widen slightly at our daughters diatribe. She's realizing just how isolated Danielle is when it comes to today's world. The little girl has stopped speaking and seems to be waiting patiently for her mother's answer. I set my fork down and lean back in my chair, wondering how my wife is going to tackle this particular question and answer session.

"Well," Claire begins, setting her own fork down and folding her hands in her lap before looking at me hopefully.

_Come on Gabriel, help me out here._

I raise an eyebrow as if telling her to continue unhindered. She shoots me a scowl.

"Kale probably didn't believe you because Daddy's very special. Daddy can learn things. He can learn other people's powers if he wants to, so he has more than one." Danielle's widened.

"So I was right? Daddy can do everything?" I have to stop myself from laughing as I watch and Claire glares my way once more.

"Well, not everything. But he has a lot of powers." Danielle smiles triumphantly and I can hear the pride in her thoughts and the childish words she plans to speak to Kale the next time they meet, words that worry me.

"Danielle," I cut into her thoughts and their conversation, "You will not tell Kale what we speak of here. The abilities I have are none of his concern." Her eyes narrow as she faces off against me, eyebrows furrowing as her bottom lip pouts out. Her defiance worries me. The boy doesn't need to know anymore about me than he does already, or any more about his own ability if he's as precocious as he seems. I know what he is capable of, but I seriously doubt that he has any idea. The fear in his thoughts and the tears on his face earlier today assured me of his childish humanity.

"Danielle Maira Gray!" My voice is sharp, thunderous. There's a hint of power there behind the words, the same power Kale's father holds. "You will not discuss this with Kale. Have I made myself quite clear?" She nods stiffly, eyes wide with a sort of mesmerized, convinced fear. I stow the power away again, certain that she'll respect the order.

Claire looks furious in her seat. Her bottom lip held tightly between her teeth and she is glaring at me. I try not to care, but I can tell she has a problem with my use of abilities on Danielle. We can 'discuss' it later, but for now, the danger Kale may pose has been staved off for a bit longer.

I turn my attention back to our daughter who is muttering beneath her breath and stabbing her food viciously again.

"What was that?" I ask. I'm fed up with the attitude and she can sense it. Looking up guiltily she bites her own lower lip.

"I only said Mommy never told me her power." I look back at Claire, nodding. It's not like it's something we can keep from Danielle for very long. Sooner or later she's going to figure out that I'm not the hero she thinks I am, that it's her special ability that brings her back from the brink of death and that I'm nothing more than a murderer… I push the disturbing thoughts away before I have a chance to ponder them. I don't want to think about the day my daughter, the child I have loved and raised, realizes our lives aren't normal.

"I can heal," Claire says softly, "I can fix myself when I get hurt," her eyes meet Danielle's, "Just like you."

The little girl looks confused for a few seconds before shaking her head.

"Daddy does that." She says.

"No, Honey. Daddy can heal himself, but whenever you get hurt, it's your power that fixes it. Just like when Mommy get hurts. So when you fell out of the tree, you fixed yourself."

She looks confused as she glances back and forth between her mother and I.

"Daddy?" I nod.

"You heard your mother."

And god help me, she looks hurt. Her bright blue eyes fill with tears and she looks down at her lap, folding her hands and biting her lip. I can't take it.

"Danielle, baby?" I'm out of my seat and at her side before I even know that I'm moving. This child has got me wrapped around her finger. It's laughable, really. "Just because I'm not the one who fixes you when you get hurt doesn't mean that I don't love you. I love you very much." I gulp. Are those tears stinging my eyes? Impossible. I must be imaging things. "That's why I'll always be there when it hurts. Always."

She nods and I lift her in my arms. Claire is watching from her seat at the table, I can't quite read the expression on her face and I'm not sure that I want to.

I put Danielle to bed that night and let her babble about her day and about her friend, the boy Kale. The child who has caused such a disturbance in my life, who has threatened my position in my daughter's affections. I grit my teeth and bear it, and when she's asleep, I take out the building frustration on Claire, tearing into her like a starving man until she's bleeding, moaning and raw beneath me.

**_A/N: Thank you for all the comments and support! We love to hear from you. Reviews make our day and keep us motivated. -- Mel and Chuck_**


	12. August 2528

AUGUST 2528

Once again, fate is screwing with my life, this time in the form of this bastard boy Kale.

Danielle has avoided the subject of powers with him, stating quietly that she doesn't want to talk about it. She's been a little subdued the past several weeks, still absorbing the paradigm shift that has been forced upon her. If it weren't for him, this could have been presented to her in a less shocking approach, in a way that wouldn't make her feel as though I've somehow let her down.

Claire is furious with me. She told me that it was unacceptable for me to use my abilities on our daughter, to which I responded that 'acceptability' is in the eye of the beholder and that might makes right. To make things worse, I suspect she knows I'm hiding knowledge concerning Kale's own ability. Danielle's incomplete explanation, that her friend can "fix stuff" has led Claire to wonder what exactly that entails, and why I haven't mentioned it.

To add to all this, I'm still missing a part of my fucking identity.

It is with all this in mind that I push back from the table and head for the door. I could fly or speed out, but Kale is here and I prefer to keep his knowledge limited.

He stops me on my way out.

"Mr. Gray?" He watches me as I pull on a jacket and shout to Claire that I'm leaving. "Are you all right? You look…"

Hungry, I think. I should look hungry as I head out to release this anger. But instead all I feel is blind rage.

Unfortunately though, he has stalled me long enough for Danielle to join us at the front door.

"Don't forget to wipe your feet before you come back, Daddy," she says. "Mommy will get mad if you mess up the floor."

With that warning, I leave the house and fly towards our old neighborhood. I find what I'm looking for reasonably quickly. The man is slightly overweight and rather stupid. He is exceptionally unaware that I am openly watching him as he unlocks his front door and enters his house. He'll do.

I let him shut and lock his door behind him before phasing through it. His fat, moronic expression fuels my anger.

"Wh-what are you doing here? Who are you?"

"I'm the man who's going to kill you. Everything else is irrelevant," I tell him, savoring the fear in his eyes. Oh yes. Today will be good. He's trapped against the wall before he can scream.

I survey him for a moment before making my next move. Butter knives skewer through his wrists and ankles. The sharp stink of his urine fills the room, and his full weight rests on his impaled limbs as I release him from my grip. As I continue my butchery with assorted cutlery, his screams become shrill and inhuman.

I get bored faster than I'd like and finish the job in a burst of rage, shooting the largest knife through his eye and into his brain. The carpet beneath his suspended feet is saturated in his blood, and I feel momentarily sick before regaining my frustration. I destroy everything in the house before flying back home.

Danielle is playing in her room, and I go upstairs to find Claire waiting for me.

"You smell," she says quietly. I ignore her and kick off my shoes. "You smell like death."

I turn to see her fold her arms. "I didn't get any blood on me. You're imagining things."

"Gabriel, I know when you've killed someone. You've been coming home with that reek on you for hundreds of years."

"It's none of your business, Claire," I warn her. "Leave it alone."

Eyes flashing, she asks if there was a point, a purpose to the man's death tonight.

"The purpose, dear Claire, was to keep me from killing someone else, like Danielle's friend," I hiss.

She stares for a minute. "What is your problem? He's ten years old, for God's sake!"

"It doesn't matter how old he is! He's going to be dangerous soon enough, Claire!" She is at a loss, doesn't understand what I'm trying so desperately to convey. "If he doesn't have the hunger now, he will soon enough," I tell her tiredly. "He's like me. A monster, waiting to happen."

He has the hunger? Could he be a threat to Dani? Her thoughts are predictable at first, but slowly turn to the deeper meaning. Is the hunger something that can be re-learned?

I nod my assent. "I think so."

"Why haven't you killed him yet?" she asks. "If he has what you want, and he could hurt Danielle?"

I rub my forehead tiredly. "I don't want to kill the boy. It would crush her. And he loves me. I'm everything he could be."

"A killer, you mean. You're writing him off as a lost cause, but has he actually murdered anyone yet?" Her face is indignant. "Maybe he just has more self-control than you."

I seal her throat and overload her body with electricity. "Claire, you have no idea how controlled I am, and how hard I'm working to keep from killing you right now. The boy just doesn't know yet. He's too young to understand how to take what he wants."

Her body spasms on the floor long after I stop the flow of electricity. I watch her lie there panting before she sits up. She smoothes her hair back from her face and looks up at me.

"I'm going to go put Dani to bed. Take a shower and rinse that smell off you." As she walks away, I feel another wave of spite and shove her into the wall with a burst of energy.

"Real mature, Gabriel," she shoots back as she leaves the room.

**_A/N: Thank you for all the comments and support! We love to hear from you. Reviews make our day and keep us motivated. -- Mel and Chuck_**


	13. December 2531

DECEMBER 2531

The new house has become comfortable. It is no longer new, it's just the house, and we have all developed our routines surrounding it. Claire cleans on Mondays, but the rest of the week is spent on her own pursuits. She paints, she writes, she plays an ancient violin. It costs a days work every two weeks just to keep her in supply. Danielle spends a lot of time with Kale. They've been friends for four years now, and when she's not having lessons with Claire or I, she's with Kale and his parents. We've grown close to the Romanovs in the years since our arrival, which may be why Kale spends so much time at our home. He's practically become a fixture, and despite myself, I've found myself growing fond of the brat.

Don't get me wrong. He's still a threat, and I know that, but there's something about the way he seems to rely on me, about the way he seems to adore Danielle… But the constant brush of his burgeoning hunger definitely keeps me on edge.

So as he moves through the house, following Danielle with a stupid smile on his face, I glower. I can hear them playing in her toy room. She's convinced him to play house with her, a game he only barely tolerates. To be honest, I'm surprised he still plays at all. He's fourteen now, past the age where playing house with an eleven year old should be okay with him, but he just can't seem to tell my daughter no when she begs. There's another thing we have in common.

"Kale, you need to come home for dinner!" Danielle is calling from their clubhouse. She's convinced Claire to provide her with some provisions for the place, no doubt the dinner they'll be consuming.

"Hang on Dani, I'm fighting bad guys." Kale responds. I open my eyes with a little extra oomph, peering through the walls and into the room. The boy is waving a wooden sword around, sweeping and jabbing until he turns on the old clock on the bookshelf, knocking it deftly onto the floor.

I hear Danielle's annoyed sigh as she climbs from the clubhouse, pushing aside the blanket that works as the door and standing up. She's gotten so big, and she's still growing. She's going to be tall, as it is she's already reached her mother's shoulders. Her hair isn't as light as it used to be, but what used to be a white blonde has turned golden and sunny.

"Kale!" She chides, "You can't knock that over any more! You're going to make Daddy mad!" She rushes to the clock, picking it up hastily only to cut her finger on the broken glass face of the thing.

"Ouch!" She yelps, dropping the clock and holding her hand out to look at.

"Are you okay?" Kale drops his sword and rushes over the Danielle. He's taller than she is by a foot. He grabs her hand pulling it out to look at.

The jagged wound heals then, knitting together and leaving a familiar trail of blood to drip onto the carpet. In my minds eye I see Claire as she had been last night, naked and writhing on our bed with trails just like that on her stomach and thighs. I shiver and push the thought away.

"How do you do that?" Kale's voice is soft as he stares down at the blood, his brow is furrowed as he studies my daughter. I don't like the look in his eye. I recognize it, and my body tenses.

"I don't know," Dani says, just as softly, "I just do." Kale continues to stare, I can see him thinking and let the thoughts rush into my head.

--_Weird. She just puts herself back together, like it takes no trouble at all. I wish I could do that. I wonder if she'll show me one day… maybe I could learn if I watch her really close. I'm really good at learning things. Maybe she could teach me-_

I growl and push the boys thoughts out of my head, beginning to stalk through the house towards the play room. The children continue talking.

"Could you show me?" Kale's speaking in a bare whisper, and I stop dead in my tracks. Did he just… ask her? I tense, waiting for my daughters answer.

"I don't know. I don't know if I can." She sounds unsure of herself, but her thoughts are painfully clear. _Daddy can learn peoples powers… I wonder if other people can too. Kale's really good at learning things, and fixing things. _

I can hear her piecing things together in her head, I can see her love for the boy growing as she puts us on nearer planes, and I can see the place in her mind where my voice echoes, ordering her not to tell Kale anything about my abilities.

"Oh." Kale's voice is soft. His thoughts aren't. _She probably can't show me. It's okay. I don' need to know. And I don't want to hurt Dani to look. But if I could, I could- No. I don't want to hurt her._

"But we can try." Danielle's voice is still soft, almost hopeful. I round the corner and peer into the playroom. My daughter's standing there, she's taken Kale's hand in hers and is smiling up at him. Kale smiles back.

"Kale," my voice is harsher than I intended, "I think I heard your mother calling for you." The boy looks up, startled, and yanks his hand from Danielle's. "I think you should go see what she needs." I say.

The boy nods. And with a hasty "Yes, Sir," in my direction and a goodbye for Danielle, he rushes out of the room.

My daughter stands there, her expression almost guilty as if she knows I heard her thoughts, as if she knows I would disapprove of her new plan.

"Go wash up for dinner." I say.

She nods and rushes out to find her mother.

I am left alone in the toy room, the broken clock still ticking away on the carpet.

Its half a second fast.

**_A/N: Thank you for all the comments and support! We love to hear from you. Reviews make our day and keep us motivated. -- Mel and Chuck_**


	14. September 2520

SEPTEMBER 2520

It wasn't a particularly remarkable evening. The sun had set but the warmth still lingered in the air. The autumn chill hadn't worked its way into the bones of the city yet, and everyone was thankful. Even me. I took the time to walk to the outskirts of the city, to think on my way to accomplish my goal. I had known about the child for a week now, I don't know what had stopped me since then. Maybe it was a healthy fear of change, though I prepare to think of it as wariness. I am no idiot, I do not rush into things without thinking things through, and I had explored every possible outcome of this particular decision.

There would be lots of death tonight, I was sure of that. I had already tracked down each of the guards, none of them had any powers I hadn't already obtained. I was having to travel farther and wider for unique abilities these days. My last acquisition had been in Tibet.

I reached the outer limit's before midnight, and I began to hear the sounds coming from the camps. Children sniffled and sobbed, infants wailed with hunger. It was a miserable cacophony of sound. Still I approached, silent and pensive until I reached the first guard.

He was leaning against a wall, his shoulders hunched as a girl, no more than thirteen knelt before him. I could see very plainly the way his hands were twined tightly in her hair… and the tears in her dead looking eyes. The sounds were sickening.

I made him suffer, dragging the girl away and setting her gently on the ground as I strangled and stabbed him. She watched, eyes wide. By the end of it, I couldn't tell whether she was more afraid of the dead man in my arms or the madman holding him. I dumped the corpse at her feet. She hiccupped a sob and began to whimper.

I didn't know what to do, so I set it on fire, watching her through the flickering flames.

"Run," I said, "Don't let them catch you again." And she did.

I watched her fade into the distance before I turned back to towards the camp. The other guards were being drawn by the flame. I took my time on each of them, working my way closer to the ragged fence of the outer wall. A young man operated the gate. He looked as if he was about to be sick, as if he it wasn't just me that had disturbed him. I took a peek in his mind, saw the way his heart bled for the children here. He had one of his own, he could barely afford to feed him. On a whim, I decided to let this man keep his life. Besides, there had to be someone left to care for the children in this camp once I left.

"Open the gate, and hide. If I ever see you again, I'll kill you." I warned. His eyes grew wide and the gate swung open. I had to suppress a laugh.

The inside of the camp was, if possible, more awful than the outside. Children lay everywhere, many of them with the distended bellies of the starved. They would die soon. I made my way through the rows of children. They all watched me and cowered, as if they expected to be kicked.

I found another pair of guards on a filthy mattress near the back, a teenage boy choking and sobbing between them. I didn't even waste time with torture, I just slit their throats with a flick of my fingers and watched, satisfies as the life drained slowly from their eyes. The boy between them grew still as the blood splattered across his face, meeting my eye before rolling over to cry into the mattress.

I followed the high pitched wails of the infants until I reached the squalid hut in the middle of the compound. Three toddlers drew in the dirt by the front door. I tried not to look at them. The inside of the hut smelled of stale urine and feces, unwashed bodies and death. Several corpses lay stacked against the far wall, and in the middle of the floor, pilled like firewood, the infants squirmed. There must have been twenty of them, some dead, some alive. I found the one I was looking for near the bottom of the pile. She was wearing a soiled pink jumper and her mouth was covered beneath the solid body of another child. She had suffocated there. My heart ached at the sight of so much waste.

I pulled the infants apart, separating the live one from the corpses. Only seven of them lived. And as I uncovered the face of the child in the pink jumper and gold bracelet, she took a long shuddering breath. Her blue tinged skin regained color, and she began to cry.

The knife in the middle of my back brought me to my knees, the child still squirming where she lay in my arms. Apparently, I had missed a guard.

I set the child gently on the ground, stroking her cheek with one dark finger before reaching back and pulling the knife from my spine with a grunt. As I turned, I could feel the fear on the man's face.

"Please, oh God, No! Please! GOD NO!" I let him scream as I carved my initials all over his body and removed his entrails. I didn't even realize I'd made such a mess until I had finished and found the infant girl soaked in the guard's blood. I picked her up as the blood began to dry, and she smiled at me. It was the truest smile I had ever seen, and from a child barely old enough to lift her own head. I felt my heart beat accelerate, as if it knew something I was too dense to realize.

I left the place with the baby in my arms, hissed at the older children to care for the rest of the infants in the hut, and then disappeared into the night.

**_A/N: Thank you for all the comments and support! We love to hear from you. Reviews make our day and keep us motivated. -- Mel and Chuck_**


	15. February 2532

FEBRUARY 2532

Claire comes in from her run and drops onto the sofa next to me. I'm watching a movie, projecting my memory of _A Clockwork Orange_ onto the bare wall that faces the couch. It's a rather frivolous use of time, but I find that occasional frivolity keeps me from getting too tense.

My wife leans slightly into me as I drape my arm around her shoulders. She watches with me, although I know she doesn't particularly care for the story. But it isn't the story that matters this time. It's the teenage criminal, the murderer.

Of course, Alex DeLarge bears almost no resemblance to Kale. Kale is very gentle with my daughter—he defers to her wishes and treats her as something delicate and breakable, despite his knowledge that she is anything but. He and Danielle are at the Romanovs' house, but I can see from here that they are playing in his tree house.

I think back to the conversation they had in December, about learning to heal. As far as I know, they haven't spoken about it again, but I did notice a shallow cut on his palm last month. An accident, he called it. Danielle didn't question it, but I have to wonder if he's attempting to teach himself to regenerate. I haven't mentioned this to Claire, simply because her overprotective nature combined with her own bad experiences would insist that we do everything possible to prevent him from learning Danielle's ability. Although I am concerned and therefore watchful of him, I must admit that I'm also perversely intrigued. And if he shows signs of violence, I can kill him and his family. He will never do to Danielle what I did to Claire.

The movie has flickered and disappeared as I get distracted by this line of thought. Claire kisses my cheek. I can hear as she deliberately chooses not to ask what I'm thinking. Instead, she sighs.

"I need to take a shower," she murmurs lazily. Moments like this, when she relaxes her defensive front, I can hear the stubborn Texan accent that has managed to last through the centuries. A ghost of a smile touches my lips as she stands.

I hear the shower running upstairs and focus my attention on the conversation across the street. It has very quickly become of interest to me.

"Dani?" Kale asks hesitantly. "Um, I've been thinking."

My daughter turns to look at him. "And?"

She's started using sarcasm, a habit that gets on my nerves from time to time. Clearly it does the same to Kale, for as I use my enhanced vision, I can see him scowl.

"I was thinking…maybe sometime you could try to teach me how to heal." His blue gaze is intent on her face, as though trying to will her to agree with him.

"I don't know _how_, Kale!" she tells him with exasperation. "I can't give you lessons on how to stop bleeding and fix broken bones."

"But maybe I can learn," he persists. "I'm really smart, and I have a knack for seeing how things work."

"I'm a human being, not a machine!" Danielle stamps her foot and turns her back on him, seething. This has been on her mind a lot, and apparently she's decided it's impossible. I watch him, ready to move if he tries to push the issue.

Instead, he hesitates before walking up behind her. "Dani?"

She turns slowly to see him standing quite near her. She looks up at him, eyes cold.

"Dani, please?" he asks, widening his eyes and playing up the disappointment in his voice. "I promise you won't have to do it very often, and we can stop whenever you want to." I can see her melting from here, and he presses his advantage. "Please, Dani?"

Her voice is soft as she responds, "Okay."

**_A/N: Thank you for all the comments and support! We love to hear from you. Reviews make our day and keep us motivated. -- Mel and Chuck_**


	16. March 2532

MARCH 2532

Claire is painting outside and once again I'm keeping an eye on the children. My curiosity and concern for Danielle have reduced me to a voyeuristic babysitter.

"Ah," Danielle inhales sharply as she pricks her finger with the needle. Kale's finger is already welling up, and he watches her wound intensely. It seals in only a second, and he turns his attention back to his own hand. His brow furrows as he stares at his finger, trying to make himself heal. It doesn't work.

"Damn," he mutters as he sticks his bleeding finger in his mouth.

"Kale," my daughter says, "maybe this isn't going to work. We've been doing this for a month now and nothing is happening. Maybe it's not something you can learn."

"I can do this," he counters. "I just need more practice. Once I figure it out, I'll have it for sure." Danielle sighs and puts the needle away.

"Sure, Kale." There is no way he cannot hear the resignation in her voice. It's painfully obvious that she is just as frustrated as he is, but less willing to continue.

"I'm done for today, I don't want to do this right now," she says, standing. "Let's get some juice." Kale stands and follows her, as he always does.

They sit at the kitchen table and I watch them out of the corner of my eye. I've got one of Claire's ancient books on my lap, but it's hardly holding my interest. They drink their juice in silence, not looking at each other. The uncomfortable silence grows until Danielle hops up to put her glass in the sink.

"I'm going to the bathroom. I'll be right back," she says quietly. Kale looks up from the table, across the room at me.

"Mr. Gray," he acknowledges my presence. I murmur some pleasantry as his attention returns to his drink. I open my mind to let his thoughts in.

_Maybe I should ease up on Dani. She's getting upset; I should leave it alone for a little while…feel like I'm not even close._ He glances up covertly at me without lifting his head. _He's special…different. How does he have so many abilities? I wonder if I could learn something from him…I wonder what kinds of things he can do. He froze me, and he moves really fast…but what else? I wonder if he would show me._

Not a chance in hell, kid. I snort and turn a page in this book. I don't even know what it's about.

"Sir?" And now the boy is looking at me again.

"Yes, Kale?" I prompt him, putting aside my book. It's not a very effective disguise anyway.

"Has Dani always been able to heal? Like ever since she was a baby?"

I have to be careful with my answers here. Danielle is unaware of her true origins, and it will stay that way. No need for her friend to get the sordid details.

"Yes, she has." Short and simple, it doesn't leave a lot of room for follow-up questions.

His voice grows more cautious with his next question. "And is that your wife's ability too?"

"She has powers of regeneration, yes." I mentally brush off the idea that Claire might mind Kale knowing her ability. He won't bother with the idea of learning from her, anyway, not when my daughter is so eager to help him. My answers seem to give him courage, and he keeps up the conversation.

"She looks awfully young," he says offhand. "My mom was kind of surprised when we met you guys. She says she'd love to know what your wife does to look like that." I can hear his mind putting things together; I'm impressed as he asks me to confirm his conclusion.

"Is that part of it? You look young always, until you die?" I'm so pleased by his mental capacity, in fact, that I answer him again.

"Yes. She will always look that way." I actually have to remind myself not to correct his assumption that Claire will still die. There's no need to throw out that knowledge as added incentive to take Danielle's power.

"That's pretty cool," he comments. I search his mind again, looking for a renewed desire to take this ability and its benefits for himself. Instead all I find is the simple pleasure of learning something new about the world. Maybe the boy is more innocent than I anticipated.

Danielle returns then. "Kale, I'm kind of tired. Maybe you should go home now, and I'll see you tomorrow."

He looks at her for a long moment before replying, "Okay, Dani. I'll see you tomorrow."

He turns to me and says goodbye, then goes back to his home. Danielle sits on the couch and snuggles up to me with a sigh. _Should I tell him about Kale? He might be mad…_

"Daddy, you know how you can pick up other people's powers? Do you know if other people can do that, too? Have you ever met anyone like that?"

I pause, choosing my words with care. "I don't know if other people can do that, sweetie. I've never met anyone quite like me."

I can hear Claire come in and, hearing our conversation, stop there to listen.

"Daddy, how do you learn other powers? Like, how did you learn how to heal? Did someone teach you?"

"Well, Danielle, I…I look inside people's heads and I see how they work." My daughter absorbs that for a minute. She thinks I mean that I look through to their thoughts, and I am disinclined to set the record straight. I somehow doubt that she will never find out the truth, but eleven is far too young to hear her father's grisly habits.

"Did Mommy teach you how to heal?" she asks again. I don't really know what to say, but Claire walks in and saves me the effort.

"Yes, baby. I taught Daddy to fix himself. But why are you asking about this?"

"I…I just wondered if Daddy was the only person who could do it," our daughter says.

Claire glances at me before answering, "I'm sure he isn't the only one, honey. But it's pretty hard to do."

On that note, we end the conversation and prepare dinner, but I can hear Danielle thinking _It's hard, but it could maybe work._

**_A/N: Thank you for all the comments and support! We love to hear from you. Reviews make our day and keep us motivated. -- Mel and Chuck_**


	17. April 2532

APRIL 2532

The children have graduated from needles to razor blades. It's probably not a good thing, but I just can't bring myself to regret the shallow lines now crisscrossing Kale's stomach. Danielle makes the cuts across her arms, but her friend has to be more careful. I imagine his mother would react poorly to her son's new habit. Their lessons have become something my daughter dreads, weekly practices she spends much of her time trying not to think about. I want so badly to put a stop to it… but it's not my child being hurt, and there have got to be limits, privacy. Granted, this isn't exactly the kind of situation most parents would allow their eleven year old to take part in, but most parents haven't lived for half a millennia and had a daughter who will live just as long. Danielle has to learn to draw her own boundaries, to make her own decisions. Still, I won't be telling Claire about this any time soon.

The children sit in the play room, beneath the tent Danielle has made their fort. I watch through the walls, as usual. I think there must be something wrong with this situation. I'm a voyeur who spends his days watching a pair of kids. I'm surprised Claire hasn't said something, but we haven't been talking much lately. I think she's completed six large paintings in the last month… I can't tell whether she's trying to avoid me or just passing time while I work or zone out on the couch to keep an eye on Dani. To be honest, I'm not sure I want to know.

I wasn't the only one who lost the hunger when I killed that addict in the ally, and I'm painfully aware of that. Claire lost it to, or at least the man it made me… and I don't think I want to know how it's changed us.

One things certain… or sex life isn't nearly as active as it used to be. I'm not sure what to attribute it to. Maybe it's just a lack of fascination between us. After all, it's been literal ages since we came to know one another…

A sharp hiss from the play room pulls me away from those thought and I focus myself on my daughter.

"Kale!" She's leaning forward, eyes wide as the boy stares determinedly down at his abdomen. He's dropped the bloodied razor on the carpet. Crimson beads cling to cream fabric. I can see the red line trailing from the bottom of one pec down to his belt, I can see the parted flesh and the flowing blood.

He cut much too deep. He will need stitches… soon. Danielle bites her lips as the clean cut across her forearm heals. Kale closes his eyes and concentrates.

_Close. Close, damn it. Heal. Heal. No more pain. Gone. Go away. Heal. Heal now. Heal like Dani. _

I laugh openly at his technique. Even in the confines of his own thoughts the boy wants to control and order. I suppose it's a small miracle he doesn't try it with Danielle, though it's probably more of a self preservation instinct than any real wisdom. I have no doubt my daughter could serve him his heart on a platter if she so chose… if she weren't so delicately inclined. Even the sight of the boy's blood makes her nauseous as she watches it flow down to the denim of his jeans.

I still don't understand this new reaction she's developed towards wounds. The nights I came home bloodied hadn't phased her a bit as a toddler, but here she is, a young girl, a pre teen I suppose they're called… and the sight of this boys abdomen opened up is making her want to vomit. My instincts tell me it has less to do with the actual gore than with the fact that it's the first time she's seen such a thing with any permanence… especially on someone for whom she cares deeply.

"Kale, I don't think it's working." She's beginning to panic, her heart beat accelerating as her friend continues to bleed on our carpet. I frown at the lack of respect for personal property.

"Be quiet Dani, I'm trying to concentrate." Kale is growing pale, the blood draining from his face as it drains from his belly. His eyes flutter shut. He sways where he sits. There's something wrong here.

"Kale?" Danielle is growing more panicked, and when the boy doesn't respond, she raises her voice. I can hear it regularly now.

It's probably time to act.

Probably.

But really, what business is it of mine if this boy bleeds out on the carpet? It would get him away from my daughter…

A voice in the back of my head begins to whisper. 'Opportunity,' it's saying. 'Opportunity." I think I know what it means.

I make my way to the play room. The boy has become scared by now, he sits against the wall of the little tent, his jeans are saturated with blood, his eyes wide with fear.

"Dani," he says, "I think I did something wrong."

Damn straight. "Danielle. Go to your room." My voice is loud. It echoes off of the walls. She frets for a moment before rising.

"Daddy, Kale's hurt!"

"I know. Now go to your room so I can help him." She's stubborn though, and try's to linger. I don't have time for that right now. I take control. She's remarkably difficult to manipulate. The strings I can find so easily on her mother are foreign here, and it takes me a few moments to take control. When I do, I can read the look of terror on her face. I'm glad Claire isn't here to see this. Her daily run's have become a blessing.

I send Danielle upstairs without a word and turn my focus on Kale.

Opportunity. It's hard to take advantage of when it's a corpse.

"Kale. Look at me." He struggles to do so with unfocused eyes. He's lost too much blood. "Look at me," I command. His blue eyes focus and lock on mine.

"Mr. Gray. I think I'm gonna be sick." I chuckle. I think what he has is sometime's referred to as gumption. I like to call it too much pride.

"Nonsense. You're going to be fine. Now. Heal," I say.

He looks at me, clearly confused.

"Mr. Gray… I can't. I can't heal like Dani-"

"Don't be such a twit," I bite out. "You can do it if you set your mind to it. You've seen Danielle do it a thousand times at least. Now you're going to die unless you can do it too. So heal."

He tries to focus again.

_Heal! Heal! Heal! Heal! Heal!_

Idiot boy. "Not like that. I know you've made Danielle cut herself more times than you can count. You've watched her bleed and been glad. You're an animal. You _like _watching your only friend in pain."

"No!" He seems shocked, hurt by the thought.

"No? Then how can you make her do it? You manipulate her into cutting herself over and over again just so you can get a kick out of watching her bleed. Don't you understand how humiliating that is for her?" I can feel myself growing angry, can feel my contempt for this boy mounting. I want to hurt him. Want to make him cry.

"No! She's helping me! I don't want her to hurt! She doesn't _get_ hurt!"

"Like hell she doesn't hurt. She feels exactly like you feel, the only difference is she can heal her pain, but every time the metal cuts her skin, it burns. Every time she watches you bleed and look at her like she's some sort of pet project, she hurts!"

There's revulsion mounting on his face… revulsion, terror… and there it is.

Understanding.

I know it's time. Time to give him a reason to heal.

I reach out deftly and do what I've been longing to do since I met him.

My hands wrap around his neck, and they squeeze. I hear the sickening crunch of the bones in his neck giving way, so familiar to my ears. I let the violence go, the anger at what he's been making my daughter endure. And I kill him.

**_A/N: Thank you for all the comments and support! We love to hear from you. Reviews make our day and keep us motivated. -- Mel and Chuck_**


	18. April 2532 2

_That Night…_

I moved the boys limp body after I strangled him, took it to his tree house and laid him out on the boards. The blood from his jeans soaked quickly into the wood. I left him there and wondered… Had I made the right decision? It was a choice I couldn't change, and true, I'd never much regretted my own actions, but when you make an irrevocable decision, you sometimes have to wonder whether it was the right one.

I thought for a moment, reminded myself that I'm practically a god and could probably reverse this if I took the time to look for the powers I'd need, and then I left, spent some time in the inner city.

The house is quiet when I return . Upstairs, Danielle is sleeping soundly. In our bedroom, I can hear Claire pacing. I grin feraly.

"Hello, Claire." She jumps as I round the corner into our bedroom and her hand flies to her heart before storm clouds roll across her features.

"You!" she hisses, putting both hands on those perfectly rounded hips and stalking towards me. I watch as they sway. It's almost hypnotic. And I realize that it's been about a month since the last time I had her here on our bed. Not that the last time had been anything to rave about. I had come, she had moaned. It had ended with me rolling over and drifting to sleep. Less than satisfactory. Yes, that basically summed up our sex life since Danielle and Kale became friends.

Four years. It's a long time to live on vanilla sex. Again, the gnawing sensation that the hunger hasn't just affected my hunting habits begins to surface.

"Me," I say, standing near the wall. She growls impatiently, angrily, and walks over to me.

"How _dare_ you?" She hisses, small hands pushing against my shoulders to shove me against the wall. I watch as she does it, let her move me and hear the thump as my shoulders hit solid paneling. "What gives you the fucking _right!?_" Her hand darts out and as her palm catches my cheek, throwing my face to the side, the sound of the slap resounds throughout the room.

I growl in warning, but it doesn't seem to deter her. She continues un-phased. "What makes you think controlling our daughter is an option? How could you? How could you do that to Kale?" she back hands me and my face twists to the other direction. Danielle obviously told her mother everything and Claire drew her own conclusions. I can feel the small amount of guilt I harbor over what happened recede as anger rises up to replace it.

"I have never been more disgusted with you, that boy looked up to you! And now you've made your daughter afraid of you and killed the only friend she's ever had," she says, a fist sinks into my stomach and I lose my breath. She's worked up quite a powerful blow since her days as a cheer leader. I suppose I'm lucky she doesn't have a knife in her hand. "You're a sick fuck, a terrible excuse for a father!" I can hear the words I spoke to her years ago on her voice, and they cut me deeper than I expected.

I lash out, not waiting or giving her a chance to land another blow. I hold her, poised like the puppet she is. "If you ever say that again, I'll end you." The words are spoken low in my throat and I watch as the fear rises in her frozen eyes. "Are we clear?"

I allow her the room to nod and then clamp my control back around her, vice like. "Now, Claire, lets get a few things straight. I did what I had to do. I doubt very much that Danielle would have been able to handle watching her friend bleed out," or her father strangle him for that matter, "So I sent her where she wouldn't be able to see. Further more, Kale isn't dead."

I can see the delicious understanding dawn across my pretty wife's face, and the fear.

_He learned to regenerate? How? Did he do something to Dani? God, I'll kill him is he has. Is it the hunger? Has the hunger surfaced?_

"He did nothing to Danielle," I say, "Other than talk her into cutting herself to show him how to heal. He was going about things completely the wrong way."

_Then how-_

"I taught him. Empathy. I thought it might be the more desirable track. I wasn't about to crack my own head open and let him take a peek." Claire is clearly relieved. It's not enough.

"So, darling Claire, is this the story you've been making up in your head? Your wicked husband abuses your poor daughter and lets her best friend bleed to death?" And finally I see the fear in her eyes. It pleases me to no end. "So sorry to disappoint you."

_Kale… what does this mean for him? _I smile. She's trying to defuse the situation.

"I imagine his cravings will surface very soon. That's when it happened for me, After I took my first power. Soon he'll need more. More powers. And more violence if he's anything like me. Though I'm not sure how the acquisition of his first power will affect his hunger. That's something to think about I suppose. Now stop trying to change the subject." I stalk forward and glower down at her. "You've been a very bad wife."

I let her speak.

"I don't know what you mean," she says, still frozen in place.

I laugh. "I'm sure. But you will before we're through. Now, I thought we were past you not trusting me."

"Gabriel-"

"Sylar," I correct, smiling as I reach her and run a hand over her cheek and through her long blonde hair. It's so silky smooth beneath my palm. I grab it viciously, yanking her face up and forcing her onto her tip toes. "You've got to _earn_ Gabriel."

I can feel the fear vibrating in her skin and in her eyes. She knows what's coming, and we're both a bit rusty. Her fear isn't totally without reason. I haven't let this part of me into our sex life since the last time I lost control. But its time.

"Against the wall, Claire," I order. She moves stiffly, fighting my control until she's against the wall. I close the door and turn the lock. "Now, arms up." Lithe arms rise up, palms lay flat against the wooden paneling. Her cheek presses firmly against the same and I step close behind her, pressing the length of my body to hers. My hands begin at her hips, trailing lightly over loose clothes and soft, tight curves. She so young beneath me, so taboo. I let her voice loose.

"Gabriel, stop it," she hisses, "I am not in the mood."

I chuckle. "It's amusing that you think that matters to me."

"I mean it! Get your filthy hands off of me, Sylar!"

I press close against her, practically crushing her against the wall and dropping a soft kiss on the shell of her ear. "Oh Claire, after 500 years, you still haven't learned to treat me with respect. I'd complain more, but it gives me a convenient excuse to exercise my more… sadistic tendencies."

Her breath hitches and her eyes squeeze shut tight. I know she's holding back tears. It's an unexpected treat. I haven't seen her cry in years. I continue kissing her, run my lips from her ear to her neck and back again. She shivers.

My hand reaches her mouth and clamps down firmly, and then I let myself loose. I use a long neglected talent, one that focuses on the mind, finding all the pain receptors and turning them on. She screams into my hand, scratches and thrashes wildly against the wall where I hold her. I let loose my control to feel her move beneath me. Somewhere in the middle of the session, I rip off our clothes. I want her bare skin against mine as she screams into my palm and tears flow freely down her cheeks.

I can't help the laughter that bursts up and out of me, having her here like this again is so exhilarating, so delicious. I can't believe I let this go for so long. I can't believe I thought the lack of hunger would make this anything less than immensely satisfying.

I ease up on the pain and hold her as she sobs and convulses beneath me, when her breathing begins to slow again and her body goes limp, I turn her to face me, hitching her up against the wall and pushing into her in one smooth motion. She's completely dry and every fantastic inch of her clings and tugs at my own stiff desire. She's crying again, weeping at the violation… but as my mouth takes hers, I can feel her growing wet.

Once a cheerleader always a cheerleader, and they always were the easiest sluts.

I take her violently, passionately, she's raw, wet, bleeding, sobbing. I can feel her own desire building… but this is for my pleasure, not hers. So I let the old familiar electricity rip through her body. She shudders, bites her lip so hard her teeth sink straight through and rivulets of blood drip down her chin. Around me, her wet sheathe pulses and tightens, milking and tugging at me until I'm ready to explode.

She sobs and lets out a soft shriek as I pummel into her once more. The electric sizzle travels from my hands to her ass where they rest, melting flesh to flesh. The searing pain is enough to send me over the edge, and I come, biting her neck hard enough to sever her jugular. As she bleeds out, I feel her own orgasm, pulsing around me as her eyes flutter shut and she moans, head tilting sideways against the wall.

I stay there for a few seconds, catching my breath and coming back to myself. I can feel the wet heat of her blood coating my skin and the sticky warmth of her arousal clinging to my sex. I am intensely satisfied.

I step back, dropping her into a thoroughly fucked heap on the ground and clattering down beside her to catch my breath. By the time she heals and sits back up, I'm sitting with my back to the wall, knees up and arms resting across them as my head tilts back so that my face looks towards the ceiling.

She doesn't move towards me, an understandable reaction as I just finished literally fucking her to death. I grin as she tries to rise and head in the direction of the bathroom.

"We're not done yet," I say, directing her to the nightstand and the old knife within instead.

She gulps. The fear in every fiber of her being is evident, but it would take an expert in her body to notice the subtle arousal and glimmer of desire there beneath it. Lucky for me, I'm just such an expert.

God, this is going to be fun.

**_A/N: Thank you for all the comments and support! We love to hear from you. Reviews make our day and keep us motivated. -- Mel and Chuck_**


	19. April 2532 3

_The next morning…_

There is fresh blood on the carpet and the bed, and I don't think it will ever come out. Oh well.

I took hours last night to remind Claire of her taste for pain, hours of cutting and fire and electricity. Hours of breaking her bones and killing her and driving into her. By the end, though, she had remembered, and she clung to me and mentally screamed for more even as her flesh grew back and her bones knitted up. She trembled in my arms and whispered, "I've missed you, Sylar" before slipping into unconsciousness.

We're lying tangled together with the coverlet thrown to the floor. Now she shifts and opens her eyes to look at me.

"Morning," she mumbles sleepily. She tries to push her hair out of her face and into some semblance of order, but I take her wrists and pull her in to me. She sighs warmly and kisses my chest. I feel an overwhelming surge of affection for her as she lies against me. We breathe in tandem and my fingers trail up and down her arm and stroke her hair.

"Do you remember when Sylar wouldn't have been welcomed back?" I ask her with a smirk.  
She pauses before answering, "Yes. But I've gotten to expect that side of you, at least some of the time. You aren't complete without it." That admission is made calmly, with no reference to the hundreds of years she's spent fearing and hating her childhood demon.

Though I'm not reading her thoughts, her emotions are transmitting quite clearly to me. My question, and more importantly her answer, has made her reflective.

"Kale is alive. What is he going to do now?" This is out of line with our normal game, but I'll allow it just this once.

"He's going to live forever." Or at least until I decide otherwise. "And he'll want to learn more. But we'll deal with him later. Not this morning. He isn't going to be an immediate problem." I speak confidently, but a small portion of my brain is already planning.

"Do you remember when you used to leave me for years at a time?" she asks next. "Did you…" I can feel her hesitation as she debates whether or not to finish the question, "Did you ever miss me?"

I frown slightly.

"How am I supposed to answer that, Claire? You didn't exactly welcome the prodigal husband in. You tried to kill me a million times."

She is silent again before telling me in her husky morning voice, "Everyone needs a hobby."

I smile to hear her repeat my words from so long ago. I'm always right.

"I've hated you more times than I could count," she admits, "but you gave me a reason to live. You were the only reason I never had time to feel depressed or alone." And I can feel the truth of her words in her body, in her voice. Although she wouldn't admit it to herself, Claire came to accept our twisted relationship centuries ago.

"Tell me what you're thinking," she requests.

"I was thinking that I didn't always love you. You've often been the bane of my existence," I answer honestly.

"Then why haven't you finished the job yet? Killed me and rid yourself of the trouble?"

"You know why."

_He loves me_, she thinks to herself with a warm glow. _He loves me_. I laugh aloud at her unreasonable giddiness.

"Of course I do. I wouldn't have given you Danielle if I didn't." I kiss her hair and let her emotions wash over me. Love, tenderness, gratefulness, and a swelling deep-seated contentment in our life here as a family.

"Do you think you'll get the hunger back?" she asks me. I shrug. I really don't know, and I tell her as much. She stretches her lithe body, savoring the sweet tension all the way through her legs to her toes. We both know that we will need to get up soon and continue on with day-to-day living, but we are unwilling to move from the bed and these moments of honest conversation.

"I'm sorry," she says. "I know I've been distant lately, from you and Dani. I'm going to be better now. We can reset the balance." There has never been any balance—there is only what I want—but her apology is heartfelt and last night does seem to have mended some bridges that were in disrepair.

I rub her back and don't speak for a very long time. When I do, it is to answer her forgotten question.

"Yes. I missed you every day."

**_A/N: Thank you for all the comments and support! We love to hear from you. Reviews make our day and keep us motivated. -- Mel and Chuck_**


	20. August 2532

AUGUST 2532

The last several months have been…interesting.

Kale returned to our house two days after cutting himself open, his mind a roiling mixture of excitement, confusion and indignation. He avoided me out of a sense of fear and shame. After all, I'd found out what he was doing to my child and murdered him. He dodged most of Danielle's questions, although he did say that I helped him learn to heal. He came to me after a week or so, and asked that we speak privately.

"You killed me, Mr. Gray."

"And yet here you stand. You're welcome."

He set his jaw, and I saw the determination in his eyes before he plunged into the deep end.

"Sir, you've always been different. I know you're something special." I waited for him to gather his thoughts, and he went on, "What is your power? How did you know what was going on?" He's right to ask. I've started him on this course, and it's time he knew who I am. What I am.  
So I told him. I told him that he was like me, and that I was, as far as he was concerned, omnipotent. I even told him how I familiarized myself with the inner workings of the human brain. He didn't react as I thought he would. He wasn't overexcited as many boys his age might have been, but neither was he frightened. His eyes widened just a fraction, but he nodded seriously and I could hear him agreeing with the sense it made.

Finally I asked him, "Have you told your parents about this?"

He snorted. "Yeah, right. They wouldn't understand, and my mom would freak out. They hardly even use their powers at all." His voice was tinged with disdain—he clearly didn't agree with their conservative views.

"Good. Don't. In fact…" I layered my voice with the mental compulsion he would be forced to obey, "You're not going to repeat what we've discussed to anyone, including Danielle, unless I tell you otherwise."

And that was the end of it. He and Danielle continued to spend most of their time together, and his newfound ability was largely ignored. I put all of this away, though, in order to enjoy today.

"Happy birthday, Dani!" Kale bursts in through the front door and wraps her into an enthusiastic hug. We've invited the Romanovs over for her birthday dinner, but Kale is the only one who seems truly comfortable here. His parents enter more warily, but ignore the animal fear in favor of being gracious visitors. None of them bear gifts—it is a tradition that passed out of memory over two hundred years ago.

"Hey there, Gabe!" Jace greets me. I wince internally—Gabe? and shake his hand. Claire announces that dinner is ready, and we all move into the dining room.

Tonight Danielle asked for corned beef and cabbage. She doesn't actually eat the cabbage, but she likes the way Claire fries up bacon to go with the vegetable, and she gets what she wants today.

"So you're twelve today, right, Dani?" Lara asks in a friendly tone. I open my senses to her emotions and feel her discomfort. I've never really thought about it, but our family is often very quiet at the table. After all, I can hear everything I want to anyway, and Claire lost her compulsion for incessant chatter back when her age still numbered in the lower double digits.  
Danielle nods, careful to keep her lips sealed around her mouthful of food. We make small talk and manage to make it through this awkward dinner, at which point Dani and Kale escape to their playroom. I find myself jealous of them. I can't even concentrate on this inane conversation between the four adults.

"We've got to say, we have been so glad to have you as neighbors these past couple years," Jace says as we sit back in the living room. "It's been nice to see the kids growing up together."

"Yes, we enjoy having Kale over," Claire agrees, "Dani adores him, and he's a very polite boy." This remark raises the eyebrows of both Romanovs.

"Well, that's a nice change from how he is at home," Lara says. "He's always so defiant and moody." She sighs. "I'm sure it's just a phase, but it seems like it's been going on for a while."

Claire commiserates on the impossibility of teenage children, and the topic occupies the conversation until the kids come back and declare it to be time for cake.

"So tell me, Claire, how did you and Gabriel meet?" Lara asks. I look up, interested to see how my wife will field this question. Well, it's a funny story, he tried to kill me and I narrowly escaped with my skull intact…

"Oh, um. Nothing exciting, really. I met him when I was pretty young. He had the whole bad-boy thing going on, and we got married a few years later." Claire's mind has gone cold and hard. She's discomfited with the woman's ignorant stumbling onto a delicate subject.

"How did your parents take it?" Lara continues. I grind my teeth. I'm listening to Claire's mind, but Kale's vehement thoughts interrupt. God, Mom, why don't you ask for their whole life history_?...so nosy…they're obviously uncomfortable… _

_  
_"Actually, they had no say in the matter," Claire answers matter-of-factly. "He just swept me away, and that was that." Her tone says that the subject is closed, and Kale's mother stops asking.

"Quite the charmer, eh, Gabe?" Jace nudges me, and his son explodes.

"Shut up, please! Maybe he doesn't like that nickname, Dad, and none of this is any of our business in the first place." His voice is furious and full of contempt for his parents. Danielle kicks his leg hard under the table.

"Hey, it's my birthday, Kale. Stop being a jerk and eat your cake," she commands. Her face dares him to argue with her, and he chickens out.

"Sorry," he mumbles, face burning. We all studiously ignore the outburst and talk about mundane, inconsequential nonsense. No wonder he has no respect for his parents. If my daughter spoke to me in such a fashion, she damn well wouldn't get away with it. These people are weak, incapable of standing up to their fifteen-year-old son.

As I show our guests to the door, I pause. It would be better to convince them without resorting to my extra influence. Jace would most likely recognize, and maybe resist, a power that he himself can wield.

"I don't want to appear presumptuous," I start, "but maybe Kale needs a healthy way to vent his frustrations. He's welcome to come hunting with me. You might find that he comes home a more pleasant person to deal with." Kale stands behind his parents, a small smile creeping across his features.

"Well…sure," Jace answers. "That would be great. Thank you."

"What kind of hunting do you do?" Lara inquires.

"I go after the local wild game. It can be difficult, but it's often easier than you'd think. And the results are very rewarding." His parents smile, relieved by my offer to take their son in hand.

"Thanks, Mr. Gray," Kale chimes in. "I can't wait to learn from you."

**_A/N: We just wanted to thank everyone again for their support. Your comments keep us going. Also, just a quick question for you all: Volumes three and four are from Danielle and Kale's perspectives, would you still be interested in having them posted even though they deal primarily with original characters? We promise it will be worth it, as the two volumes lead to volume five... which is once again from Claire's perspective. Just something to think about. :) Have lovely day._**


	21. September 2532

**A/N: We've finally watched episodes fourteen and fifteen of the current season, and it has put us in such a spectacular mood, that we've decided you all deserve another posting today. Mild spoiler, but the last minute or so will make you squeal if you like our stories or this pairing in general. It was like a particularly epic dream, and we shouted back and forth over the phone (as Chuck and I are currently several hours away from one another) like school girls. So. Moral of the story: Great writing from Heroes script writers means you get two chapters in one day.**

**Love, Mel and Chuck**

SEPTEMBER 2532

There are some things you simply don't discuss with your wife and daughter. For example: the feel of brain matter between your fingers, soft and rubbery and fragile. You don't discuss the way you thrill when another life is lost beneath the weight of your hands. It's just not appropriate. And so, as I find myself guiding 15 year old Kale through the back streets of central city, I become anxious. How can I explain this in a way the child will understand? Somehow, "You slice off the top of their head and play around," just doesn't seem to cut it.

"Mr. Gray?" I am pulled from my musings by the boys voice. It has begun to deepen in the last couple of years, but the childish lilt is still present.

"What," I say, continuing my steady pace. Kale has to skip a few steps every so often to keep up.

"Are we really hunting wild game?" he asks, truly curious.

I smile. "Oh yes." He still doesn't seem to understand, but I can tell he suspects. I decided after I made the initial invitation that I'd let the boy draw his own opinions about my hunting habits, but as the only man I know of with the same sort of ability… who has several lifetime's worth of experience with the hunger… I figure it's my duty to enlighten him. Besides. I'd rather have a controlled killer around my little girl than a hormonally pubescent, temper tantrum throwing, child.

I find the perfect 'animal' in one of the back alleys. He's old, feeble, insane… And he has a simple enough power. A trinket, really.

"Do you see that man there, by the wall?" I ask in a hushed tone. Kale stops behind me and stands, arms crossed in front of him as he follows my gaze.

"Yes sir," he looks half interested, half frightened. I was right. The boy suspects what is coming.

"That's our wild game." The shiver of anticipation from where he stands tells me I made the right decision bringing him here. "You're going to take his power," I say. Kale looks at me, uncertain. The old man is still laying there, barely conscious in the chilling, near autumn night. His hair is long and tangled, a mixture of clumped earth and iron strands. Sores are evident on his arms and legs. His face is obscured by a wild tangle of a beard.

"I don't know if I-"

The back of my hand against the boys pale cheek makes a resounding crack in the dank ally. The animal by the wall stirs. "Don't try and use those trite excuses on me, Kale," I say, voice sharp, "They may work on your parents, but I think you're forgetting what, exactly, I am capable of, and just how much I know about your power." The boy's eyes water and he nods, shame faced.

"Now," I continue, "I'm not completely unreasonable. I realize you may be confused about what happened the last time, between you and Danielle… so I'm going to show you something new. An alternative source of sustenance, if you will," If Kale is confused, he hides it well.

"You," I address the near corpse on the ground, and as I speak, he rises. He's hobbling, legs twisted at odd angles and feet grimy and shoeless. I can tell he hasn't stood for quite some time and the strain on the fragile joints between hips and toes are aching. "Come here." The man makes no move to disobey, I'm the one in control. Usually I like the chase, but I suppose it's easier to start simply with Kale.

The boy wrinkles his nose as the man approaches and he catches the pungent scent surrounding the filth. Stale urine, old vomit, and dried blood. All the hallmarks of an absolute societal reject. Of course, the boy has lived a sheltered life. He wouldn't be familiar with this sort of climate.

"Mr. Gray?"

"Hush."

He nods. I raise my hand, and feel the power extend from two of my outstretched fingers, like a long, silken blade reaching out to expose what I want. The grinding, sawing sound of bone being cut makes Kale wince. I glance down at him and chuckle as I continue. Who would have thought a child who could cut himself repeatedly and then expose his own entrails would have a squeamish stomach.

The old man bleeds out quickly after the skull cap comes off, his grey hair a tangled mass of blood and mud on the ground and dangling down his neck. I motion for the boy to stand beside me in front of where the animal kneels, dead now and upright only by virtue of my powers.

Kale looks like he's about to be sick.

_Ugh, he smells so gross. I wonder when the last time he bathed was. God, I think I'm going to be sick. Mr. Gray's going to think I'm a baby. That brain looks gross. I hope I don't have to touch it. That's it, I'm going to puke._

And he does, all over the degenerates clothing, not that it makes much of a difference. I laugh openly as he retches, chunks of Claire's home grown apples sticking to the kneeling man's beard.

"It's okay, Kale," I say, steadying the boy with a hand on the shoulder, "The smell is quite… fragrant." He gives me a watery smile and takes a few gulping breaths, happy I think, that I've realized his reaction was more for the presentation than the act itself. "Now, follow my lead," I let the tips of my fingers trace along the grooves of the brain matter. "We're looking for something that tingles, something that you recognize as out of place," my fingers settle on the spot, "Yes, there it is. Feel."

Kale extends his hand, shaking, and touches the exposed tissue, following the same trail I had. I can tell the moment he finds it, feel the wonder in his body… But still, the distaste is there. I can tell the only thing he enjoys is what he's learning. There is no thrill at the power over life, no appreciation for the coppery scent of blood. I'm not sure what to make of the lack…

In the back of my mind though, I wonder… What if he's different? What if the way he took his first power really did have a huge effect on his future acquisitions? What if his 'hunger' was for something different? I reach out with my power and brush against his. Yes, there's the lust for knowledge, the insatiable need… and the hunger, but it's a tamer hunger, a desire for connection, emotion… I should have known.

Kale finishes with the man and I let him drop to the ground. The boy is delighted, sidestepping the corpse and pointing with one finger at the darkened air before him. Ghostly letters appear, glowing bright in the dark night, they spell his name. "Kale Flint Romanov." I smile as I remember the power. Trivial. Fun.

I raise my own finger and with a hasty scrawl add to the boys name. Where 'Romanov' hung, now there is only 'Gray', pulsing bright in ghostly, pearlescent letters.

The child's face lights up. I don't know what prompted me to do it, but I can tell I've made the right decision tonight. I've discovered two things. One: the boy has no taste for killing, something that puts me at ease when it comes to Danielle, and two: he wants more than anything to be a part of my family, something I'm not completely adverse too. After all, it will be easier to keep track of his burgeoning talent if he's under my roof… and easier to control him around my daughter.

"You realize," I say, "That something will have to be done about your parents." He makes a face and scowls at his shoes.

"I don't care about them," He mutters, "You and Danielle are the only ones who really understand me anyway."

"Well then," I muse softly, "I suppose it's time to take you home."

"But you just-"

"Patience, Kale. It's a virtue."

He nods, grudgingly.

I take the child home after that, leaving him to explain away bloodied hands and no game to his parents before I make my own way across the street and into bed. Claire is sleeping, I don't mind. Tonight will be about plans. I settle my hand across her stomach and kiss her neck before curling around her and breathing deeply.

It looks like our family will be expanding soon. The thought makes me oddly content.


	22. December 2532

**A/N: New update for you. We are nearing the end of volume two. Thanks for all of your support, and please don't forget to review, it's the only way we know you like/dislike what you're reading. **

DECEMBER 2532

Kale is getting more anxious every day; he spends all the sunlit hours at our home, to the point that Claire has begun setting him a plate for dinner each night… so I am unsurprised when she confronts me.

"What's going on, Gabriel?" Her voice is clear and sharp against the backdrop of running water in the sink. I'm washing my face and hands, getting ready for dinner. I spent the day "bartering" in the market and was left quite grimy. It is one of the reasons I like to make my trips into town as infrequent as possible. Thank God for easily frightened people and a society in which vocations are practically useless, it makes the times I must forage for food or tradables to support my family bearable.

"I don't know what you mean," I say quickly, thoughtlessly.

"Bull shit."

My temper flares and I turn the tap off, grabbing a hand towel from the counter and drying my face. My five o'clock shadow is rough against the soft fabric. I need a shave. "That language is demeaning and makes you sound like a street whore," I admonish. Her temper flares in response. The tension in the room is becoming thick enough to choke me.

"What are you keeping from me?"

I turn to face her. She's standing in the doorway, arms crossed, legs spread… the way her jeans caress her thighs giving me ideas. "Right now? My temper. Now move."

The threat doesn't even phase her, if anything, she looks supremely unamused. "Why is Kale spending every waking moment at our house, and why do you seem content to let it happen?"

I take a second to be proud of my little wife, of all of her keen observations and bravado. "I hadn't noticed," I say dismissively, pushing past her easily only to feel her hand close tight around one arm and the other snake around my back and shoulders to rest on the other side of my body, a knife at my throat.

We stand there, tense for a moment before she chuckles in my ear. She's obviously standing on her tip toes, she wouldn't have been able to reach that high if she weren't. The thought of my strong Claire holding a knife to my throat and standing like a child to threaten me is pleasant and distracting. "Tell me, Gabriel, unless you'd like to spend your day scrubbing a few pints of blood out of a beige carpet."

"I told you something darker would be more practical, but no, Claire-bear wanted a light house if she had to live with a monster." I feel her body stiffen behind mine. She's so easily provoked. It's truly one of her greatest weaknesses. "Besides, I don't complain when I have to scrub your virginity off of our bed sheets in the mornings, why would a little of my own blood be a bother?"

Her jaw clenches and she begins to hiss. "Don't make this difficult. I just want a straight answer. You owe me."

I scoff. "Now there's an absurd idea," I say, letting my hands find her hips behind me before trailing lightly up her toned sides. I follow her arm with my hand until I find the hilt of the knife. "Put down the knife," I order.

"Lemme think about that for a second."

_No. Now tell me what you're hiding._

I smile and twist her wrist in a blur of motion. The knife hasn't even hit the floor, and I've got her pinned to the bedroom wall, my arm across her neck, her feet dangling a foot above the floor. As her air flow is blocked and her thoughts become fuzzy, I speak.

"Why do you always force confrontations Claire? Is it because you want to be punished? I think so." Her hands claw at my forearm and I feel one of her nails snap as it drags against my skin. She's kicking now, her bare feet thrashing and bruising my legs until I finally drop her into a gasping heat on the floor.

Before she has time to recover, I have her back up again, suspended in the air, wrists over her head and suspended by an invisible thread as her toes barely brush the carpet with each movement. I find I like the view.

"Let me down, Gabriel. You can't solve all of our problems like this." She hisses, but I can see the tell tale quickening of her heart beet, the shallow rise and fall of her breasts as she breathes, the tightening of her nipples evident through her thin shirt.

"Of course not," I agree, "But I can solve some of them this way."

And I show her just how well disputes can be resolved with her hanging in the middle of our bedroom, my palm reddening her bare backside and my voice chastising her for pulling a knife and resorting to violence when words would have done… absolving her for the desire she feels, and inciting a deeper longing. Calling her a slut and telling her not to worry because it gets me off…

When I'm done playing I let her down. I'd never imagined such frivolous punishment as a spanking could make her come, but I'd been proven wrong not once, but twice. She's shaking against me as I lay across our king sized bed, her bare breasts resting against my cotton tee shirt and her lips toying with my jaw line.

"Gabriel…"

"Hm?"

Her lips curve into a smile beside my mouth as her hand busies itself beneath the flap of my jeans. "_Please, _tell me what you know about Kale." I groan. Its one thing to deny your wife when she'd holding a knife to your throat, but quite another to do so when she's stroking you to a very quick climax.

It seems my little cheer leader has learned very well the she can catch more deranged serial killers with hand jobs than with blades.

"Claire…"

"Just tell me," She whispers. She's doing that thing I love with her fingers, tapping the very tip of my head and stroking the glands simultaneously. I can feel the blood rushing and pounding in the veins there. I have to groan and think of naked grandmothers to keep myself from coming right then. "I just want to know what you're planning… My cunning," she kisses the corner of my mouth, "powerful," she kisses the other corner, "Sexy, husband." She takes my mouth in a kiss that sears me, continuing the delicate motions with her hand…

I moan into her mouth. I can't keep it back anymore. After all… she's only asking for this one thing. "When I took him out hunting that first time, to get powers…" I have to stop, have to pant.

"Yes…?" Claire's movements slow to a torturous rhythm and she lays her cheek against my shoulder, trailing her tongue across the fabric of my shirt. She knows I've been taking Kale hunting, and she doesn't mind, especially since lately I've been letting him get a better grasp on the emotional learning. It's what he excels at, and what he enjoys… Not that he minds watching me butcher the cattle afterward.

A sharp knick of finger nails brings me back to earth, reminding me to continue before her fingers become soft again. I gasp. "I told him… I told him he could stay with us. His family…" I have to break off, have to bite my lip and concentrate on not spilling myself in her hand just yet… "His parents don't understand... I'm going to… Oh God, Claire."

Her other hand has found its way to her own slick fold and she's pleasuring us both simultaneously. I have to close my eyes to block out the visual onslaught.

"Come on, Gabriel," she encourages.

"I'm going to get them out of the picture…" I say, trying hard to focus.

"Kill them?" she asks sharply, nails grazing tender flesh before I hiss out a response.

"No! I'm going to erase their memories… send them across the continent to another settlement. They'll never even know they had a son…"

I feel her hand grow gentler around me. I'm so close… so fucking close.

"And when were you planning on discussing this with me, husband dear?" her voice is saccharine sweet, but I can't really bring myself to care, not when I'm about to come against her perfect little fingernails…

"After they were gone… When it was time for… him to move in." And then her hand is gone. I'm left confused, throbbing, my heart pounding a mile a minute and my eyes unfocused.

"Claire!" I cry out. I need her, need her so badly.

"You're an ass hole." Her voice comes from across the room, and before I know it I'm there, dragging her down to the carpet and plunging into the furnace between her thighs for relief. She's so close that she comes at the first thrust. It only takes me a few more to tumble right off the edge with her.

I lay there, pinning her to the floor with my weight, growing soft within her as both of our breathing becomes steadier…

"I do believe," I say once I can think again, appreciate what my young wife just achieved, "That you just manipulated me."

She smiles against my 5 o'clock shadow. Still caught up in the afterglow.

"So, am I supposed to take that as a 'Yes Gabriel, I know you've thought out the whole thing thoroughly and would never bring this boy into our home if you thought he'd pose any danger to myself or Danielle?"

She chuckles.

"Not by half. You don't get to decide to bring another child into our home without me." I roll off of her and onto my back, letting my eyes close. Only Claire could give me a headache just seconds after a mind blowing orgasm.

"I think I do, Claire. Kale needs guidance… unless you want him becoming a directionless wretch." She grows stiff beside me, moving to her side and propping her head up on one elbow.

"Is that what you think you are?" her voice is soft… tender.

"Don't be stupid." The question makes me uncomfortable.

Claire sighs.

"We've known Jace and Lara for years…"

"Correction, we've known their son. His parents may as well be strangers."

She pauses, thinks about it. "Kale will miss them…"

I roll back over, covering her body with my own. I meet her eyes. "No. They don't understand him, not like we do. You are the perfect mother for him… because you're the perfect wife for me." She sighs, but she can't hide the smile completely.

We stay that way for several minutes, kissing and stroking, nuzzling and panting.

Finally, she speaks. "When?" She asks softly.

I grin. "Next week, if that's not too soon."

She nods. "Okay then." I give her one last kiss before rising to my feet and padding back towards the hallway. The children are probably wondering why dinner isn't ready yet. The sun has almost set.

"Gabriel?" Her voice stops me in the doorway, "You do know this doesn't mean you win all the time, don't you?"

I smile back at her.

"If you say so."


	23. February 2533

**A/N: Here's another question for all of you lovely readers. The reviews generally told us you would be interested in reading about Dani and Kale. So there are a couple of options. Should we post both volumes uber quickly, like, volume three one day, and volume four the next? Or should we continue with this pace? Both volumes are complete and ready for posting, so its really a matter of how long it takes us to post them. There is crucial plot within those volumes as well, plot that is essential to volume five. :) Well, let us know! Thanks again for all of your support and reviews. **

FEBRUARY 2533

I rub my eyes irritably. Having Kale move in has proved to be more problematic than I'd thought. Ten minutes ago Danielle came to our room, and now she and Claire are talking alone in her bedroom. I'm listening in, of course.

"Mama? Where did Kale's parents go?" she asks tentatively. She recently stopped using 'Mommy'—I think out of a desire to appear more mature. It makes me unreasonably happy that I remain 'Daddy'.

"The Romanovs had to move far away, sweetie. They left Kale with us because he didn't want to leave here."

"So is he going to live with us from now on, forever?" Her voice is not happy, as I thought it would be. It's almost sad, actually.

"Well, maybe not forever," Claire hedges, "but he'll probably be here for a long time." She pauses; I can see her reach for our child. "Sweetie, what's wrong? I thought you would be happy to have your friend living with us."

Danielle crawls into her mother's lap, despite her size and her age. Her bottom lip trembles before she continues speaking.

"How come Daddy spends all his time with Kale?"

_You stupid jerk, you've been ignoring her. I hope your plans were worth this. _

I bristle at her tone. I may be busier than I used to be, but I don't think I've been neglecting my daughter.

"Your daddy just wants to help him. Kale can't learn new things without Daddy's help. They're just having some time alone as boys. All guys like to do that." Claire winces, knowing that her excuses sound weak.

Our daughter sniffles and asks, "Does he like Kale more than me?"

My brow furrows and I sit up. How can she even think to ask such a foolish question?

"Oh baby, no. Your dad could never like Kale as much as you. You're special." Claire strokes Danielle's hair and kisses her. "You're his little girl." Damn right she is. I'm completely blindsided by Danielle's emotions. Where is this coming from?

But her mother's words aren't enough to soothe her worries. Danielle clings to my wife and cries. "I just…I feel like he doesn't love me as much anymore," she says miserably.

Everything in me stops at her words. I feel physically sick. Of course I love you. I'll always love you. How can she think otherwise?

I stand so I can go to her, comfort her, but I'm stopped by Claire's vicious mother-bear thoughts. _You stay the hell out of here, she thinks fiercely. She doesn't need you right now. _

I feel so powerless, listening to my daughter's tears and my wife's murmured reassurances. I can only listen for a few minutes before going downstairs to get away from it. I rummage in the kitchen for a glass and the whiskey. Alcohol isn't the same as it used to be. Mostly it's a lot harder, stronger—enough to destroy your stomach lining, if you drink it often. But it's either that or weak, watery wine, and neither Claire nor I have a taste for that. I pour out too much liquor and down it in a single gulp. It burns its way down to my stomach and I gasp.

"Sir?" I look up to see Kale in his pajamas. "Is everything okay?"

A glance at the clock shows it to be ten-thirty. I would tell him he should be asleep, except that our hunting trips often keep us out for hours later than this. Still…

"Go back to bed," I snap. Instead, he walks forward another step.

"What's wrong?" he asks. He sits down at the table and looks at me. Rotten little bastard. He's picked up the ability to read emotions, but doesn't yet have the discipline to use it with discretion. If he had any brains at all, he'd read mine and get the hell out of this kitchen. I tell him this and he smirks.

"No offense, Mr. Gray, but with all the stress in this house, I can't lie down and go to sleep. I might as well sit in here." I hate this kid.

I direct my hearing upward and can still hear crying. God damn it.

"Will Dani be okay?" he asks quietly. I look sharply at him and see that his head is bowed. I would explain to him that she's an adolescent girl and that excessive emotion comes with the territory, but I myself am disquieted by her unhappiness.

"She's not used to sharing everything. She'll be fine," I tell him, pouring another drink. I open my mind to let his thoughts rush in. I find excitement over his new abilities and concern about the wellbeing of the other members of this household. Absolutely nothing about his parents. He doesn't waste any time thinking about them.

"That's pretty cold," I comment on their absence in his mind. He looks at me and shrugs, as if to apologize for his lack of feeling.

"I told you I wouldn't miss them," he reminds me. "They're not important."

"They created you. You might show some gratitude."

"I don't think it's my creators that are going to shape my life, Mr. Gray. Do you really think they matter all that much?" He looks at me quizzically and I feel a chill go down my spine. I think of the woman I called Mother, my biological father; I think of Claire's two sets of parents, both dead by my hand; and last I think of Danielle's unorthodox arrival into our family. He can't possibly know the implications of his words.

"To bed, Kale," I say as I force him to his feet. "I'll see you tomorrow."


	24. February 2533 2

**A/N: Thank you again dear readers. Please do continue to review. :) The post after this will be the last. I'm excited. How about you?**

**--Mel**

LATE FEBRUARY 2533

"God, Kale, just go play with my dad, why don't you?" I hear my daughter's exasperated, angry voice and scowl. If I'd known that he would bring so much trouble, I wouldn't have sold the house across the street for him.

"Dani, don't be like this," he pleads. "You never used to act this way." I wince. Wrong words—Danielle's temper flares.

"I used to have my own home, and my own stuff, and my own parents!" she shouts at him. "So excuse me if you don't like my attitude!" She pauses for breath and then accuses, "Don't tell me this hasn't all worked out good for you, you freaking worship him!"

"What, and you don't? You're twelve years old, and you're still Daddy's little baby," he sneers. I can see with my eyes closed the way her face is flushing at his words.

"You're goddamn right I am! If you don't stop acting like a jerk he'll kill you," she threatens. I smile. I would, too, if I didn't think she'd be upset with me.

"Your dad likes me," he tells her smugly. "He takes me hunting and teaches me new things. He's never done that with you."

With a scream she throws herself at him, scratching and punching. Time to intervene.

I enter the living room to find Kale warding off Danielle's attack.

"Stop." With a wave of my hand Danielle is standing three feet away from the boy, arms at her sides, angry tears on her cheeks. Claire's like that too—all emotion wired straight to the tear ducts.

"Danielle, if you do not watch your language, I will punish you for it." Claire has followed me down the stairs and stands behind me.

"Kale, honey, why don't you come help me in the kitchen making lunch?" The two of them leave the room, and only my daughter remains.

"God's not a swear," she says sullenly. I mull that over for a second. If there is a God, neither Claire nor I will ever meet him—we've pretty much maxed out on what the religious would call 'sins'. We are gods, invincible and immortal. I am the closest thing to a god this girl will ever know: damn near omnipotent, omniscient, and omnipresent.

"We'll table that for now," I reply smoothly. "Nevertheless, you will speak like a lady in my house, and conduct yourself as one. Now sit down and explain why you're fighting with Kale." She sits stiffly in an armchair, choosing to be apart from me.

"Why can't Kale live in his house?" she asks me. "I don't like it when he lives here."

"Why not? He's your friend. You spent all your time together anyway."

She won't look at me. "I don't like having to share everything with him."

"Danielle. You're not sharing a bedroom with him. Don't be ridiculous," I say, eyes on her.

_I don't like sharing you. _

"Come sit on the couch with me," I tell her. She does so, but makes sure that there is space between the two of us.

"Baby, just because I'm spending more time with Kale now doesn't mean that you're any less important. He just needs some help with his power." She bites her lip and her eyes refill with tears.

_Why don't you love me as much as him?_ I feel an awful pain in my chest, and though I know that my heart cannot actually break, it feels as though it can and is.

"Danielle, I love you. You and your mother are everything in the world to me. That's never going to change," I promise her, turning her face up to look at me. If she is surprised that I am answering her thoughts as well as her words, it doesn't show. Even as a small child, she was remarkably even-keeled.

"Then why don't you take me with you when you go out at night? Why Kale and never me?" she demands.

"Because…Kale's ability is different from yours."

She nods. "He can heal now."

"Yes, but he's trying to learn new things as well. And that requires us to go to some dangerous places, and I wouldn't be able to take care of both of you," I say, and immediately realize my mistake.

"Since I can heal, you don't need to worry about me!" she protests. "I won't be in the way!"

God, I don't want to do this. I don't want to tell her the truth about me and disillusion her, show her the monster. I'm not ready. She's not ready. What if she no longer loves me? I brush the terrified thought off and go on. It's time.

"Sweetheart…do you remember what I said a long time ago, about how I learned all my abilities?" She nods and I continue, encouraged. "And do you remember when you were a very little girl, how sometimes I would come home with blood on my clothes?" She nods again.

"In order to get more powers, I had to open up people's heads and look in their brains. They…they don't…" I stop and rub my eyes. This is difficult. "I killed them. They don't have our power, so they die. For every power I have, I had to kill someone to get it."

I watch as she absorbs this information readily. She's a quick girl. But her face is devoid of fear or revulsion. Instead, there is simple curiosity.

"So, when you said you learned how to heal from Mom…you had to kill her? But she can't die."

I sigh and run my fingers through my hair. "No, she can't die. But her brain taught me how to heal. It was the most important ability I ever learned." I can still remember the rush of power, the giddy knowledge that came with invincibility.

But my daughter isn't quite finished. "How come Kale comes home, but he isn't bloody like you are? I thought he was supposed to be learning."

"Kale's power is different from mine. He has to meet someone and learn how they feel," I say, reflecting on how hard it is to describe empathy to a child.

"But you still kill them?"

"Yes. Some of these people could be dangerous otherwise, and I need to make sure we are safe."

She waits for a long moment before asking, "Do you like it?"

"I've been doing it my whole life. I've gotten used to it," I tell her, perfectly aware that she's noticed my evasion.

_  
Do you wish I were different? Like you and Kale? _

"No, Danielle. I love you just the way you are, more than anything." I have avoided touching her; I don't want her to feel forced or afraid, but she scoots over until she can lean against me. I wrap her into a hug and kiss her blonde curls.

"But." She looks up at my word. "If you fight him again, you'd better have a good reason. The arguing is intolerably loud, and I'm not going to keep pulling you two apart."

"You don't have to. I was winning," she brags. I refrain from pointing out Kale's superior strength, and his fear of ever hurting her.

"That's the only way to do it."

She looks at me for a long time, as though she were memorizing my face and my words. Finally she tells me simply, "I love you Daddy."

I kiss her again and stand up.

"I'm going to go see how lunch is coming. Kale wants to talk to you."

He stops in the doorway as I reach him.

"Thank you, sir. That was the right thing to do," he says quietly. Not that I need him to tell me that, but the gratitude is nice. He goes and sits on the couch as I join Claire in the kitchen.

I can hear him apologize to his friend, and she hugs him and whispers that she's sorry too. Maybe Kale's move will work out after all. At least we have peace for the time being.


	25. April 2536

**A/N: Thank you all for your continuing support. This is the last installment of volume two. Look out for volumes three and four, coming soon. Due to your feedback, we've decided to** **post them rapidly, several installments at a time. :) Thanks again. Don't forget to review!**

**-- Mel and Check**

APRIL 2536

It's strange to think how many things can change in three short years, especially when your frame of reference spans about five and a half centuries. Children grow, relationships flourish, neighbors come and go… My life is no different. Since I arranged for Kale's parents to disappear, since he became another member of our little family, my life has evolved.

The relationship between Claire and I remains… intense. We argue, like any couple, and we make love… unlike any other couple. We have our disagreements, our inside jokes, and fantastic sex. It works for us, this bond we've constructed from hate. Our bridges are well and truly built now, and though I think the record for my saying it still stands at two or three times… I love her.

The children have matured quickly in such a short time. My daughter… is no longer an infant. I'm hard pressed to believe she'll ever be anything more than a child to me, especially when comparing Claire and I's vast experience to her short 15 years of life, but she is maturing. Her wheat blonde hair is still as shockingly light as ever, but her skin has bronzed out to an even tone that neither her mother nor I can claim. It becomes more painfully evident every day that she is some other pair's biological legacy. Danielle, of course, knows she was adopted, but it has never been an issue. She took it in stride when we explained it to her as a child and never brought it up again.

Kale too has grown. The childish lilt is completely gone from his voice and he's nearly as tall as I am. He shaves now too, and the pride he takes in his appearance, the carefully combed black hair and twinkling blue eyes, he definitely did not learn from me. He takes longer in the bathroom than Claire or Danielle, but it seems to pay off. Apparently being vain and approachable makes it easier to empathize with the dredges of society, which in turn makes it easier for him to acquire power. He's gotten quite the collection in the past few years, but his control is superb. I told him once before that if he used any of the powers on Danielle, I'd kill him. He seems to have taken the threat to heart. He keeps all but the most trivial powers out of our home.

The children's relationship has changed as well. They no longer find it necessary to spend every waking moment with one another. They have begun to develop individual interests and hobbies outside of each other. Claire assures me it's a positive development, citing her own love of painting and our first few, unhappy years of marriage as evidence.

Still, the adjustments in their friendship are still taking place. Hormones are beginning to rage (though for Kale it has more than begun) and they are seeing one another as not just genderless friends, but as male and female. I'm not sure how I feel about that. On the one hand, it's a transformation I've always known would come, I'm nothing if not a practical man, but it makes me uneasy. It's not exactly comforting to look up from your morning meal and find your eighteen year old ward staring wistfully at your quickly maturing fifteen year old daughter.

And that's what brings me here.

I'm working with the boy in the back yard, showing him just how much the electricity he's acquired takes to be used masterfully. Danielle's watching from her window seat on the second floor. I can hear her thoughts from here. They make me want to throttle the boy.

_He looks so handsome like that. God, his muscles are huge, It looks like Daddy's really giving him a work out. I wonder if he'll want something to drink when he comes back in?_

She leaves the window seat, presumably to find something cool for consumption. I have to stamp down the jealousy at the thought that my daughter is thinking of her 'friend' before her father.

"Mr. Gray, how much longer do we have to work on this?" He's sweating by the tire swing, sending volts of electricity coursing through the thick rubber.

"Until you can control yourself." I hiss, not completely in control of my temper.

Kale frowns, but continues. He looks like he's about to faint from the exertion.

"Daddy, Kale! I brought you something to drink!" Danielle's voice is clear and far too mature for my taste as it rings from the doorway into the kitchen. I motion for the boy to stop and follow me. We reach the doorway quickly. Danielle is there, loose blonde ringlets flowing down to her waist and arms bare in one of the floral sun dresses she seems to favor. I think the dresses are impractical. Thank God Claire likes a sturdy pair of jeans and a tee-shirt.

_She looks so damn pretty. I wonder how soft her skin is… maybe if I just brush her casually she'll smile like last time—"_

I cut off the boys intrusive thoughts with a glower and take a lemonade, forcing out a smile and a thank you for my daughter before pushing my way past them and into the kitchen. I can't bear to stand there while they flirt awkwardly and tip-toe around what I now want to kick myself for not recognizing earlier as the inevitable.

Of course they're going to end up becoming more than just friends. They're practically the only non-familial contact either has ever had. Both are physically appealing. And most importantly… neither can die. It was the main reason I decided to pursue Claire.

None of this makes me any more comfortable sitting around and watching. And it doesn't mean I didn't have a very long chat with Kale about _exactly_ what respect for my daughter constituted.

I am no prude, I understand that sexuality is an inevitable part of human nature… but precautions and care must be taken. I won't have some little shit fucking other women behind my daughter's back. Or doing to her what I do to Claire, however much we may enjoy it. Lucky for Kale, his ideas are far more chaste than mine have ever been. I think he may actually be in love with Danielle, though he'd be loathe to admit it. She may have him wrapped around her finger tighter than she has me, but he has his pride.

I have to work to keep from noticing what's going on in the back yard as I make my way up to Claire's work room. She's painting, splatters of bright color across her cheeks and painting clothes.

"The boy is trying to engineer a kiss between himself and our daughter, downstairs," I say, scowling darkly. She's painting a harbor at midnight, it's amazing how many colors she's managed to use and make look natural in a night scene.

She laughs at my expression, putting down her brush and paints before crossing the carpet to stand in front of me, toned arms snaking around my neck as she arches up to plant a kiss on my cheek. It strikes me then how very young my dear wife looks. Danielle is taller than Claire now… they look roughly the same age physically—but there in the eyes I can see a world of difference. Literally.

"Are you really surprised? I've been expecting it since they met," she teases.

"Sure, rub it in," I say, keeping my scowl firmly in place and trying very hard not to smile.

"Well, I know more than you so infrequently…" she's enjoying my discomfort. I think it's a motherly thing, this near unconditional approval of her daughter becoming a sexual being.

"Doesn't it bother you that our daughter will very likely be… doing things with Kale in the near future?"

"If by 'things' you mean sex," she says, kissing the corner of my lips, "then no. I've already talked to her about it, I've given her contraception—"

"You what?" I gasp, eyes flashing. I can't think about this. I just can't.

"I gave her condoms. Christ, Gabriel, we do it often enough you'd think it wouldn't bother you so much."

"This is _different," _I grit out.

Claire only laughs, pulling herself up my body and wrapping her thighs around my hips. I feel myself grow firm against those denim jeans of hers I love so much.

"Really?" she asks before taking my mouth in a kiss.

I push all thoughts of the children from my mind and let myself get lost in her lips.

I suppose there really isn't _that _much of a difference…

And suddenly, from the backyard, I feel it… a tingle of sensation across my skin, the spark of emotion rushing up towards us.

The little shit has done it, and Danielle seems to be enjoying the achievement thoroughly.

It strikes me very suddenly, as Claires lips trail across my jaw line and the children pull apart, smiles and racing hearts to show for their efforts, that this is perfect. Maybe not in the traditional sense. The fates have thoroughly fucked my plans, but the taking has been so long, so sweet. My dreams of hunger have been crumbling for years; I can't even remember the last time I thought about cutting Kale open and dissecting him to look for what I've lost.

And I understand. The opportunity, the one I thought he was there to give… it was never for me. He wasn't meant for Sylar. He was for Danielle. It took Gabriel to recognize that, to stay Sylar's hand and guide the child through the waters that could have created a monster… And now, both of us recognize the irony and the sweet sense of utter right that envelops us as we embrace it.

I do not know what the future holds, not because I lack the power, but because I lack the desire. I do not know what manner of man or child this god has made, or whether this new found contentment will last… but I know it is real. I am, for better or worse, at peace. The hunger is gone, but Sylar lives. My daughter is grown, but my wife will always remain mine. It is a full life I am living…

I smile and let Claire kiss me, laughing completely and losing myself in this moment. Rare, Complete… Perfect.

**END VOLUME TWO**


	26. Author's Note

**This is just an A/N to let you all know that Volume three is located at the following location. Sorry for the wierd spacing. It wouldn't let me post the address normally. **

**f (delete the space here)anfiction (and here) . (and here) com/s/5675663/1/My_Dad_Is_A_Serial_Killer**

**So far, we've posted about 10,000 words, so we are keeping our promise to post volume's three and four quickly. **

**Hope you enjoy!**

**--Mel and Chuck**


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